


Dreams

by indigo120



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Death Cure Spoilers, The Scorch Trials Spoilers, also a lot of Teresa because i love her, im using things from the movies and the books, tags and rating may change, very very slow srsly newt doesnt even appear in the first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo120/pseuds/indigo120
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is ten when he realizes his dreams might not be just dreams. As he gets older he starts to understand they're memories from a life he can't remember, but slowly the pieces are coming together. Maybe this time around he gets to live the life he never had. Maybe this time he gets to fix the mistakes he made and save the people he couldn't save before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok wow, so this is my first fanfic I've decided to share with the world and I'm actually really really nervous about it. Who knew that these two stupid idiots would be the ones to finally give me the courage to share this. So yeah I must really love Newtmas for it to get this far, haha.  
> This will have multiple chapters, though I have no idea how many exactly. The ratings may change as the story unfolds and I will keep the tags updated  
> I hope you will enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. (It was a pain in the ass and it made me cry but I loved it anyway.)
> 
> English is not my first language and this is unbeta's so if you spot any mistakes please tell me! I will correct them.
> 
> Enjoy!

Thomas is ten when he realizes his dreams might not be just dreams. He’s caught between childish ignorance and knowing that what he sees when he closes his eyes has to be real. His mom doesn’t necessarily laugh at him when he tells her, but he knows she chalks it up to a very vivid imagination. She thinks it’s the stress, that the divorce and moving into a new house, a new town, is all a bit too much for him. 

Thomas knows this can’t be true. After all, he’s been having these dreams since long before his parents stopped speaking to each other. He doesn’t tell her though. Instead he promises to himself that he won’t talk about his dreams to his mom again. He doesn’t want her to worry.

Thomas knows it’s not normal. He knows that when he wakes up in the morning he will not find a forsaken wasteland outside of his bedroom window. He knows there is no such thing as storms that rain lightning bolts. But when he closes his eyes he can feel the unrelenting sun burning down on him, his throat dry and aching for water. He can feel static filling the air and the vibrations going through the earth as the lightning strikes.

He remembers.

Some days he wakes up terrified, trying not to scream and cry because he doesn’t want to wake his mother. He doesn’t want her to think there is something wrong. The images that haunted him in his dreams long forgotten, but the intense fear he had felt still there. Those times he tries to convince himself that they are just dreams. They are nothing more than flashes, bits and pieces of a life that can’t be real. Couldn’t have been his. 

It’s all hazy, like watching the world go by while wearing permanently fogged up glasses. He doesn’t need to see everything clearly though, the emotions that wash through Thomas every time he relives one of his dreams tell him enough. 

Some are peaceful, flashes of green, warm bonfires and a presence that’s always there, grounding him. Those are the lucky ones. Most of them are filled with desperation, fear and anger. The horrible feeling that he can never stop running. Dreams of looming stone walls and a never ending desert haunt him. But it’s the way they make him feel that gets to him, and that really scares Thomas. It’s why he can’t convince himself anymore that his dreams are just that, dreams. The emotions are all too real, too intense and they’re all his.

There are also people in his dreams, vague and blurry but they’re there and Thomas knows them. Even if their faces are blurred and their voices drowned. He knows them. He cares for them and the sight of some of them fills his chest with sadness. There are mornings he wakes up with tears in his eyes, mourning the lives of people he has no names to give. But they’re not real, he tries to tell himself. A lie he has long stopped believing.

Sometimes there are words too, when the fog that clouds his senses lifts for a bit he remembers some. Words like Glade, Cranks and Wicked. Thomas often wonders how a simple word such as wicked can stir up so much anger within him. 

It’s on the seventh day in his new home that Thomas wakes up screaming. His dream was worse than usual. He’s soaked in sweat and his shoulder aches with some sort of phantom pain. The heat of his blanket is sweltering and almost drives him into panic. He kicks the blankets away but is does nothing to relieve him. Thomas slides out of bed and walks on shaky legs to the open window. The hot summer air hits him in the face, sweat trickles down his spine. It’s dark outside, but the moon provides enough light to make out the street and their front lawn. There is no sand. No burning sun. The houses aren’t broken down and empty. 

Light pools into his bedroom. “Thomas, are you alright, sweetie?” his mom asks from the doorway, her tone concerned. She’s in her pyjamas, her hair mussed. He must’ve woken her up. “I heard you scream.” She says softly and carefully approaches him. 

“I’m fine mom, just a nightmare.” Thomas lies. Because they’re never just nightmares. Nightmares don’t make you feel the pain like it was really there. They don’t make you fear for your life even after waking. She crouches down in front of him and wipes away a stray tear that Thomas hadn’t even noticed.

“Do you miss your dad?” She asks then and Thomas shrugs. He does miss his dad. But it’s not keeping him awake at night. He knows that if he really wants to see his father it’s just a one hour drive away. He’s going to visit him next weekend. No, his dad isn’t the cause of his nightmares.

His mom sighs and leads him to the bed where she tucks him in again. “I know it’s hard to get used to, moving and a new school but you don’t have to be scared. I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends.” She assures him, as if that would be a problem that would keep him up at night. “Just two more days and then school starts, then you don’t have to be cooped up in the house all day, it will be good for you.” Thomas nods. She’s probably right about that. School will take his mind of things, give him other things to think about. His dreams were always worse in the summer, with nothing to keep him occupied.

“Want me to heat up some milk for you?” His mother offers. It’s something she did a lot when he was younger, back when he couldn’t control his emotions as well as he could now and he woke up nearly every night screaming and crying. 

Thomas shakes his head, “No thanks, mom.”

His mom rolls her eyes, knowing that he thinks he’s too old for that now. But she doesn’t press. “Well, goodnight then,” she whispers and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Wake me if you can’t sleep, ok?” Thomas nods, but he knows he won’t. 

He sinks deeper into his pillows and pulls his blanket up to his chin, they’re still a bit damp and he wiggles uncomfortably. His mom laughs softly and ruffles his hair, before kissing him goodnight one last time. “Love you.” She says as she closes the door behind her. The light fades from the room.

“Love you too.” Thomas says into the dark. Darkness makes the air around him feel hotter, filled with static. He glances around his room, it’s still empty, no memories have been made here yet. The house doesn’t feel like home. He looks outside one last time, to the empty streets. No sand. He turns his back to the window and closes his eyes. Thomas doesn’t fall asleep for a very long time.

The next day he meets Teresa.

Thomas is playing outside when a car pulls up in the driveway of the house next to his. It’s not a too fancy car, but Thomas decides he likes it. Their neighbours haven’t been home since Thomas and his mother moved in and guessing from the full packed car they were on vacation. He bounces his basketball up and down a few times, trying not to stare as a man and a woman get out of the car and start unloading the trunk. He sighs, a heavy feeling in his chest, though he didn’t know what he was expecting. Then he hears a car door being slammed open and girl around his age jumps out.

She skips around her parents, her black hair dancing with her as she goes and she’s making it very difficult for her mom and dad to unload the car without dropping anything. She’s laughing and when she twirls to make her dress flutter Thomas’ heart almost stops. He lets go of his ball and it rolls away from him, down the grass towards his neighbours’ car. It bumps into the girls’ legs and when she turns to pick it up and her eyes find his Thomas knows for sure. If there ever was doubt that his dreams were real they all vanished in that moment.

He knows her. Thomas has seen those piercing blue eyes before, so many times in fact it is almost shameful he didn’t remember her face until now. She’s younger than in his dreams and when he blinks he sees rubble, her body battered and broken. It’s only fraction and it doesn’t make sense, but it makes him want to hurl.  
The girl looks at him with an unreadable expression, her eyebrows are pulled into a frown and she’s gripping the ball in her hands hard. All Thomas can think to do is wave. The girl casts one look at her parents who are still unloading and then she’s coming over.

“You dropped this.” Is what she says when she throws the ball at Thomas. He fumbles awkwardly, still at odds with the fact that this girl has been in his dreams, but he manages to catch it. She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly. 

Thomas finds himself looking away from her intense stare. “Thanks.” He mumbles and that seems to put a smile on her face. 

“You’re my new neighbour.” She states and looks past him at the house. From here you could see into the living room, still empty only a TV and a couch. No personal items yet. It’s almost like they’re the ones who are on vacation here. 

“Yeah, my mom and I moved in a week ago.” He answers. It had been a dump when they arrived here a week ago. Very dusty and filled with cobwebs. It made Thomas wonder how long it had been empty.

“I’m Teresa.” She introduces herself and politely holds out a hand. Teresa. He knows that name too. Everything about this girl is familiar, as if he has known her his whole life. It takes a few seconds for Thomas to react, too caught up in his own head, but when he finally does reach out to shake her hand he drops his ball again. Teresa laughs and it’s a sound he has never heard before, yet Thomas can recall it as if he has heard it every day for the past ten years of his life. She picks up the basketball again and holds it out for him to take. 

“Thanks.” He says again and hugs the ball against his chest. “My name’s Thomas.”

Teresa’s smile disappears and something flickers in her eyes, but before Thomas can question it a large hand comes to rest upon Teresa’s shoulder. Thomas looks up and is met with a friendly grin. “Who’s this handsome little fella?” Teresa’s father asks.

“This is Thomas, he moved in with his mom a week ago.” Teresa pipes up. Thomas’ stomach makes a weird flip, there’s something wrong about the way Teresa says his name. Like it’s not the way she’s supposed to say it. 

Teresa’s father looks down at his daughter. “Well, aren’t you happy finally someone your age in this neighbourhood.” He says still grinning. Teresa nods but says nothing.  
They’re joined by Teresa’s mother and eventually Thomas’ own mother who had walked in on them while taking out the trash. They end up getting invited for dinner, which his mom eagerly accepts, probably in the hopes of Thomas making at least one friend before going to school.

Teresa stays quiet through the whole exchange though, only answering when she’s asked something directly and Thomas can’t forget about the way she had reacted when she heard his name. By the time he lies in bed, twisting and turning, tired but not wanting to sleep because of his dreams, Thomas finally realizes what it was.  
Teresa recognized him too. 

They’re playing in Teresa’s garden. Their parents are inside, catching up on each other’s lives as if they’re childhood friends who haven’t spoken in years. They’re chasing each other, no one announced they were playing tag but they somehow still find themselves running after the other. Thomas is doing a good job at getting away when Teresa roars and jumps at him, they roll through the grass, laughing and shoving each other, until they’re too out of breath to even laugh.

“You’re funny, Tom.” Teresa says, while she’s looking up at the sky. The sun is setting, painting the horizon pink. Thomas heart skips a beat. Tom. It feels right when she says it like that. He turns his head to look at her. She’s watching him, a look on surprise on her face, as if she hadn’t meant to call him that. It just slipped out.

“What?” 

“Nothing. You just look…” she frowns again, the troubled look she had given him when he had told her his name is back. 

“Familiar?” Thomas fills in. Teresa nods and sits up slowly. Her blue eyes study his face, a smile on her lips and warmth in her eyes. 

“Like I’ve known you forever.” She says softly. “I really want to be your friend.” She admits, grinning but with a bit of red on her cheeks. She sits a bit closer and reaches out for his hand, but the moment their fingers brush she flinches and jolts away. As if she’s been shocked.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asks, sitting up abruptly. She rubs her hands against her temples, it looks like she’s in pain. “are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” she mutters, “just a headache.” She looks up again, the warmth is gone from her eyes. They’re dark now, regarding him coldly and it fills Thomas stomach with ice. He doesn’t like that look on her face. It brings up emotions that belong to moments he doesn’t remember living through. Betrayal and distrust. Anger. He doesn’t want to feel that way about her, he doesn’t understand why. But the feelings are there.

“I…” Teresa starts, but then the backdoor is swung open and his mom appears. 

“Thomas it’s getting late! You ready to go home?” she calls out to him.

“Coming!” he shouts back, but his eyes don’t leave Teresa. She looks like she wants to tell him something but she’s holding it back. Her eyes flicker to the backdoor, still open, then back to Thomas.

“My parents don’t want me to talk about it.” she whispers, “it’s… weird.” Then she stands and starts walking to the house. Thomas scrambles to get up, desperate to get some answers out of the girl. This could be the first clue to finding out what his dreams mean.

“Talk about what?” he asks as he follows her. But she doesn’t answer him, just keeps walking, her eyes anywhere but on him. “Teresa!” he grabs her wrist. “talk about what Teresa?” he asks again. 

Her eyes are wide and she bites her bottom lip. She looks around her nervously but they’re alone in the garden. The backdoor is open and they can hear the voices of their parents, but no one could be listening to them.

“The dreams.” Teresa hisses. 

She yanks back her hand and runs into the house. Leaving a stunned Thomas alone in the garden.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas is sixteen and his house feels like a home now. The living room is decorated with pictures. From his childhood, long before they moved and from their time here. Thomas’ face is plastered along the walls, much to his embarrassment and his mother’s delight. It’s not just him on the walls, but also the friends that he has made here. There are a lot of pictures of him with Teresa and maybe even more of him and Minho. 

He met Minho on the first day of his new school and they have been inseparable ever since. Thomas had recognized him immediately. Just like with Teresa he knew he had seen the boy in his dreams before. But Minho didn’t seem to recognize him. Not the way Teresa did. That didn’t mean they didn’t hit it off right away. Now they’re best friends and are rarely seen without each other.

His dreams are still there, worse than before, but Thomas has learned to ignore them. When he wakes up in the middle of the night he doesn’t run to his window to check the streets anymore. He's not afraid to find the world turned into a desert every time he blinks. Storms still scare him sometimes, when the thunder is booming and makes the ground shake. He buries those feelings. Maybe his dreams are real, maybe it was his reality at some point in a different life, but he refuses to let it dictate his life.

“Hey shuckface!” Minho calls from the hallway. Thomas is sprawled on the couch, a bag of opened chips on his stomach, the TV’s on but he’s not really watching. It isn’t a strange occurrence for Minho to invade his home unannounced, nowadays both Thomas and his mom leave the backdoor open so the Asian boy can get in. 

Thomas makes a strangled noise to greet his friend and stuffs his mouth full of chips.

“You ready for school tomorrow?” Minho asks as he walks into the living room, he flops down on the couch and Thomas is just in time to remove his legs before Minho crushes them under his weight. Thomas groans at the thought of school, summer had gone by way too fast for his liking.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Minho snorts.

“As if you’re ready for school.” Thomas grumbles. He sits up and brushes the crumbs from his shirt, he will have to clean the couch before his mom gets home or she’ll kill him. Minho leans over, sneakily reaching for his bag of chips. Thomas growls and slaps away Minho’s greedy hand. 

They end up in a bit of a struggle, but in the end Minho’s fingers close around the bag and he yanks it away. With a cry of triumph Minho holds the bag up, like it’s a trophy he has won. Minho has gotten stronger since they were kids, back then Thomas could manage to win once in a while. But now Minho was all muscle, strong arms and even stronger legs. Thomas doesn’t stand a chance and his friend takes every opportunity to remind him of that.

“My mom should start making you pay rent, you practically live here and eat all our food.” Thomas complains. He knows it’s a waste of time and energy to try and take back his snack. 

“Your mom loves me, she’d never do that.”

Thomas rolls his eyes and kicks his friend. Minho has a point though, somehow the boy has paved his way into Thomas' mother’s heart. She’s completely smitten with the boy. Same goes for Teresa. It’s no coincidence that the majority of photos on the walls feature the three of them. Thomas is convinced that his mom would adopt his two friends if she  
were given the chance. 

“Any interesting dreams about me lately?” Minho asks then, he’s smiling mischievously and wiggles his eyebrows. It has become a running joke between the two of them. He had recognized Minho at first sight, much like with Teresa, but when he had asked if the boy had dreams too he had been met with laughter. 

He hadn’t dared to ask again and if Minho did have dreams he never mentioned it, but he likes to joke around about them. Normally Thomas doesn’t mind, it’s nice to talk about his dreams with someone who doesn’t take them too serious. But this time Thomas tenses, his dreams have been weird lately.

“Did we finally get married? It can’t be coincidence that you dreamed about me long before we met.” Minho continues when Thomas doesn’t answer. “or did we finally get down to some action.” Another suggestive eyebrow wiggle. 

Thomas shifts uncomfortably and looks away from his friend’s twinkling eyes. That’s when Minho realizes something is wrong.

“Hey, you ok?” the boy asks, “your dreams… were they bad?” Minho is not clueless. He knows how much the dreams bother Thomas sometimes. Most of the time they’re just a little bit disturbing, but there have been times where he witnessed Thomas waking up screaming and crying about things he can’t even put into words. 

Usually it helps to joke about it, but not this time. Minho has no idea how close to the truth he actually is. Thomas however wonders if it will be such a good idea to talk about this with Minho. He loves his friend to death, but the boy isn’t very good with feelings. He doesn’t think Minho will be very tactful about this.

“I’m fine,” he lies, “my dreams have been a little weirder than usual, that’s all.” That wasn’t a lie, they have definitely been weirder. Thomas is not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Weirder than being chased by giant slimy creatures in a maze?” Minho asks. Thomas isn’t sure. He knows that, rationally thinking, his ‘normal’ dreams are all different kinds of weird, but they don’t feel that way to him. They don’t feel out of place. The dreams he’s having now, they’re not real, he knows they aren’t.

“Thomas, you know you can talk to me, right?” 

“Yeah I know,” Thomas answers. “But it’s fine, really.” 

Minho looks at him sceptically and crosses his arms. He doesn’t look like he’s about to let this go. Thomas really doesn’t want to talk about it, it has him all kinds of confused. He appreciates his friend’s concern but talking to Minho about it isn’t going to help.

“I’m _fine_.” He repeats in an exasperated tone. Minho’s eyes narrow and Thomas is afraid his friend isn’t going to drop it.

“Ok fine, if you’re sure.” Minho says to Thomas’ surprise. It probably shows on his face too, because the Asian laughs. “now tell me, how are we going to spend our last day of freedom?” 

Thomas reaches for his PlayStation controller, earning a hoot from his friend.

“I did dream about you, now that I think about it.” Thomas says as he throws Minho the other controller and turns on the PlayStation. “yeah you got hit by lightning, shut you up for a while.” He grins cheekily. 

Minho puts a hand over his chest, pretending to be hurt. “how could you talk to your soulmate like that?” He gasps. Thomas laughs, his dreams temporarily forgotten. 

*

Thomas is sitting on the porch in front of Teresa’s house, his first day of school finally over. He’s enjoying the warm sun while he still can. Soon the trees will start losing their leaves and the temperature will drop.

Teresa is lying next to him on her stomach, an open book in front of her. She’s always been a diligent student, always eager to learn. They don’t have to finish reading that until next week, so naturally Teresa has already started and naturally Thomas will wait until the day before it’s due.

The silence is comfortable. Thomas always feels at ease around Teresa. She’s kind of like a piece he’s always been missing. In his dreams she’s always there, her presence filling up the empty space inside his mind. 

Thomas lets himself fall on his back and closes his eyes. Immediately he is assaulted with images from his dreams. They’ve been getting worse. Thomas thought they would slowly disappear if he’d ignore them, but it’s the complete opposite. 

To make things worse, his nightmares aren’t the only ones who get to occupy his mind anymore. Ever since he talked to Minho, those weird dreams have been invading his thoughts. Every time he blinks there’s a flash blonde hair, pale skin and brown eyes, dark like coffee. He doesn’t know the boy’s name, his face is still blurry, only the faces of Minho and Teresa are clear in his dreams, but Thomas recognizes him nonetheless. 

Recognize him is all though. No name, a vague face, no voice. All Thomas knows is that this boy appears in his normal dreams a lot too. He didn’t just appear out of nowhere. There’s something about the boy though, he’s special, like Minho and Teresa, there’s something different about him. Maybe the fact that since a few weeks this boy has been alone in Thomas dreams. 

These dreams aren’t real, nothing of it ever happened. Thomas can tell the difference. He doesn’t remember raking his fingers over naked skin, he doesn’t remember running his hands through soft blonde hair. They’re not as vivid. Not as real. 

Thomas wants them to be real though. 

It scares him. He doesn’t know the guy, has never met him, but when he thinks about him his heart longs and his body aches. 

Teresa lets out a sigh and closes her book. “I can hear your brain working from here, what’s up Tom?” she asks and sits up. He doesn’t know how she does it, it’s almost as if the girl can read his mind. She can always tell something is wrong. 

Thomas opens his eyes, she’s peering down at him curiously, arms crossed over her chest. “it’s nothing. Just thinking.” He answers. Teresa frowns.

“Don’t give me that crap, that works on Minho but not on me.” 

Thomas sighs. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but if he had to pick someone it would be Teresa. That doesn’t make it easier though. 

“You don’t like talking about our dreams.” He says while sitting up, trying to wiggle his way out of this uncomfortable conversation.

“True, I don’t.” she answers, then her face softens. “But if something’s bothering you and you can’t talk about it with Minho you should tell me. I do care you know.” 

“I know you care. But it’s not that simple. You never talk with me about them, I mean, it’s pretty obvious we’re dreaming about the same things but you get so defensive every time I try to bring them up that it has become very difficult to bring things like this up.” Thomas lets out a huff. It’s not what he had wanted to say, but it has been bothering him for a while.

“Tom…” Teresa starts, she scoots closer. “I’m sorry.” She whispers sincerely.

“I know, I know. I just… I don’t understand why you don’t want to figure out what they’re all about.” 

“I don’t understand why you _do_ want to talk about them, Tom!” Teresa bursts out. She looks at him with wide eyes, he can see the fear in them. Thomas shouldn’t be so surprised, he himself is scared of his dreams. But it’s the first time Teresa has expressed such emotion about them. 

“I don’t care where they came from, I just want them gone.” She admits in a soft tone. “Ever since I met you my dreams have become clearer… I know the world we see in our dreams is the same, but the things that happened to us there, wherever _there_ is, they’re different. I don’t want to talk about it.” Thomas isn’t sure what she means by that, can she remember more than him? Does she know what they’re about?

“Well maybe if we talked about it we could help each other.” Thomas scoffs. Teresa shakes her head. She hugs her knees to her chest and her shoulders shake a little. Thomas doesn’t like seeing her so distressed. He wants to know what she sees at night, he wants to help. But Teresa won’t let him. 

“I don’t want to argue about this, Tom. You can tell me what happens in yours, I don’t mind, but please don’t expect me to do the same.” 

Thomas doesn’t want to argue about it either. Their shared dreams aren’t even the thing that’s bothering him right now. No it’s that boy.

He sighs, runs his hand through his brown hair. He doesn’t know how to start. Teresa’s watching him, waiting for him to say something.

“So I’ve been having these dreams.” Thomas begins, only to be interrupted by Teresa when she snorts.

“Great start, Tom. Really I didn’t know what.” Teresa teases and with that the heavy mood is gone. Thomas pokes her in her side, she squirms and pushes him away. She’s always been very ticklish. He pokes her a few more times, until he thinks she’s suffered enough for making this a lot harder than it has to be.

“Ok so, what I was trying to say, before I was so rudely interrupted,” he makes a point of glaring at his friend, “is that my dreams have been changing.” 

Teresa perks up, her eyes bright with a glimmer of hope and Thomas feels kind of bad he has to shatter that. “no they’re not gone.” He answers her unasked question. “I’ve just… gotten new ones.” He isn’t sure if it’s the correct way to phrase it, but he doesn’t know how else to say it.

“What do you mean? You’re remembering more?”

“No, not really. I don’t think these dreams have really happened. I just…” Thomas blushes. How is he going to tell this to Teresa, there really is no good way to go about this.

Thomas takes a deep breath. “Ok, so I’ve been dreaming of this person-”

“Oh my god, Thomas! I’m not listening to your wet dreams!” Teresa exclaims. It feels like there’s a tiny explosion in Thomas’ chest, spreading unbearable heat through his body. His cheeks burn with embarrassment. She starts to get up, Thomas grabs her wrist in panic, pulling her back down.

“No wait! That’s not it!” he blurts out. But that’s exactly it though, isn’t it. Teresa raises an eyebrow, looks like she doesn’t believe him either. “Ok so maybe that _is_ it.” he admits sheepishly. Teresa makes a grossed out face and stands up, Thomas scrambles after her.

“No, Teresa just listen to me, please?” He begs, he needs someone to talk about this. Teresa sighs and crosses her arms, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m- I’m not going into detail!” he promises. His friend makes a gagging sound and he sincerely hopes she’s just exaggerating right now. “I know the person, ok? They’re in my other dreams too, but these aren’t real. They’re different and I don’t know what to do Teresa. I don’t even know the guy but I’m having these dreams-”

“Wait, hold up!” Teresa cuts him off, “the _guy_?” she asks. 

Thomas didn’t even notice he let it slip. Sure at first it had been weird, before this he had never even considered he might like guys too. He had always thought Teresa was beautiful and other girls in general, but somehow it isn’t so strange to dream about a guy. Especially this one. Thomas is used to it now.

“Ehm, yeah.” Thomas admits, “you don’t… you don’t think that’s weird do you?” he asks her hesitantly. 

Teresa shakes her head immediately. “What? No, of course not! It just surprised me, that’s all.” She says. Relief washes over him, he knows it’s not uncommon, but there are still plenty of people who are against it. ”You never told me so you caught me off guard.” 

“Yeah it caught me of guard too.” Thomas chuckles. He hadn’t even known before the dreams started. Maybe he would never have found out either, who knows.

“You said you saw this guy in your other dreams? Think you’ve seen him in reality, like me and Minho?” She sounds like she doesn’t believe it. It’s not something she has experienced then. She’s studying him thoughtfully, as if she can find the answers just by looking at him

Thomas shakes his head. “Pretty sure I haven’t. I would have remembered his face I think.”

“Oh? What does he look like?” Teresa asks with a smug smile, she’s enjoying the embarrassment she’s causing, Thomas can tell. He wonders if his cheeks will ever return to their normal colour.

“It’s all a bit hazy. But he has blonde hair, dark brown eyes. That’s all I can remember really.” 

Teresa’s eyes grow wide. Her smile drops. 

“Oh, Tom.” She breathes, looking at him with pity in her eyes He doesn’t think she’s even aware she says it, or that she meant to say anything. 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

She seems to snaps out of it and averts her eyes, afraid that Thomas will know. “Nothing.” She says quickly. Thomas isn’t an idiot, he saw that look.

“You remembered something.” Thomas states. Teresa’s hiding something from him. 

“It’s nothing, Thomas.” Teresa repeats, her tone’s colder now, she’s trying very hard not to let any emotion through into her voice. He doesn’t like that tone, it’s the tone that gives him the creeps. Reminds him of a Teresa he can’t trust. Someone who betrayed him.

“You know who it is, don’t you?” He accuses.

“No, I don’t.” 

“Don’t lie to me!” Thomas shouts. Teresa stumbles back. He didn’t mean to scare or shout at her. But he can’t stand the way she’s behaving. It fills him with anger. He needs to know the truth.

He doesn’t understand why it’s so important he finds out who the boy from his dreams is. It’s another clue, six years after meeting Minho and Teresa he finally has another way to figure out the meaning of his dreams. Teresa may not want to talk about them, but Thomas can’t let it go like that. He can’t ignore them. They’ve been getting worse, more disturbing. They’re starting to scare him more and more. 

“Just drop it, Thomas!” Teresa spits out. She turns around and starts to walk away. But Thomas won’t let her, not like last time, years ago in the garden. This time he wants her to tell him the truth. 

He grabs her arm and forces her to turn to him.

“Let go, Thomas.” She hisses.

“No! You can’t keep this from me.” 

“you don’t _want_ to know!” Teresa snaps. She struggles in his hold and Thomas doesn’t want to hurt her so he loosens her grip. That seems to calm her down. Teresa closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, counts to ten softly. When she opens her eyes again, she looks like the old Teresa again.

“Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know.” She pleads softly. 

Thomas wants to believe her. He really does. But he can’t stand it that she’s not telling the truth. She’s always withholding information from him.

“Why won’t you just tell me.” 

“I can’t, Tom. I really can’t.” She slips away from him, opens her front door. Thomas doesn’t move to stop her this time. He knows it will be fruitless. Teresa’s stubborn.

“ _why not?!_ ” He shouts, desperation clear in his voice. He would give anything to be able to talk to her in his mind now, in his dreams he can sometimes. It’s easier. He can express himself better. But this isn’t a dream. 

He wants Teresa to turn around, to hug him, tell him the truth and that everything will be alright. She doesn’t do any of that and it breaks Thomas’ heart a little. 

She closes the door.

“ _Teresa!_ ” He shouts and slams his hand on the door.

No answer. 

The door remains closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for another Newtless chapter. Sort of Newtless. (but I did warn this would be very slow in the tags so yeah.)  
> But another chapter! I hope it was ok! I did try to keep everyone in character and everything but it's always something I worry about... (also a lot of dialogue, not really my thing...)  
> I wrote this a lot faster than I expected! Normally I write a lot slower. I would like to warn everyone that my updates will probably a bit irregular, since I'm very chaotic and forgetful. But I'm kind of getting an idea where I'm going with this, so don't worry!


	3. Chapter 3

The weather has taken a full leap into autumn, no more warm and sunny days, no more t-shirts. The sky seems to be perpetually grey now, the ground always wet and slippery from rain that just doesn’t stop. It does nothing to improve Thomas’ mood, humans aren’t made to be up this early on Monday.

“You talking to Teresa yet?” Minho asks that dreary morning. He’s leaning next to Thomas’ locker, his usual short sleeves swapped for a hoodie.

Thomas shoots him a glare and closes his locker with a bang. He doesn’t bother to answer, Minho knows he hasn’t talked to Teresa. 

“It’s been two weeks, man.” Minho sighs, “she’s driving me crazy. I’m not the one who should be watching Teen Wolf with her on Fridays, that’s _your_ job.”

“I’ll talk to her when she starts talking to me.” Thomas barks, ignoring Minho’s attempt at humour. He grabs his backpack from the floor and angrily stuffs his books inside.

Minho acts like this is all his fault. It’s not that he likes not talking to his friend. He just doesn’t want to be lied to anymore. Teresa knows who the boy from his dreams is and yet refuses to tell him. He’s not going to let it slide like that. It’s one thing she doesn’t want to talk about her own dreams, but she has no right to withhold information about his dreams.

“Have you ever considered she has a good reason not to tell you?” Minho suggests. 

“You’re supposed to be on _my_ side.” Thomas feels betrayed. Minho is one of his two best friends, the other being Teresa, who he’s not talking to right now. Still, Minho’s supposed to stick up for Thomas, not Teresa. The two of them didn’t even like each other at first. With a huff Thomas walks away. He has a class to get to. 

“Hey, I’m not taking anyone’s side!” Minho protests, falling into step next to Thomas. “All I’m saying is that normally I’m the one not thinking things through, so why are you acting like such a slinthead? Do you really want this to ruin your friendship with T?”

“She’s supposed to be my best friend, Minho!” Thomas lets out in frustration, “she’s supposed to be my best friend and yet she never talks to me!”

“Ok I get it! I do. It sucks that she won’t talk to you about those dreams.” Minho agrees with him, then grabs his shoulder to stop them from walking. The Asian boy glances around, but no one is paying attention to them. “but hear me out, ok?”

“We’re gonna be late.” 

“Just slim it for a second!” Minho snaps. The boy has a short temper, Thomas knows that and it seems he has finally reached the end of Minho’s straw. It can’t be easy for Minho, his two best friends aren’t talking to each other and he’s caught in the middle. 

“I’ve been having dreams too.” Minho admits. Thomas’ jaw falls open. This is definitely something he wasn’t expecting. 

“You’ve been having dreams and you didn’t tell me?” Thomas hisses. He doesn’t know who he’s more mad at now, Teresa for keeping things from him, or Minho lying to him for all these years.

“Calm down, you shank!” Minho pulls him away from the crowded lockers and further down the hallway. People are giving them strange looks.

“They started a few weeks ago.” His friend explains and Thomas feels his anger ebbing away. “at first I didn’t even notice, most of them are just me running in an endless maze.”

Thomas nods, he has seen the maze many times. Giant stone walls covered in ivy, narrow paths between big slabs of grey. He can easily imagine the creaking and booming sound of the walls turning, the maze changing, in his mind.

“I don’t know why they’ve suddenly started. All I know is that they scare me.” Minho looks away for a bit, it’s not easy for him to admit that. “they’re getting worse, but I know they’re not as bad as yours.”

“They’re not that bad.” Thomas mumbles and Minho groans.

“Cut out the tough guy act, Edison! People don’t die in mine. I don’t wake up screaming because of those dreams!” Minho’s voice gets a little louder, but there’s no one around to hear them.

“Alright, they’re bad. What’s your point?” Thomas is used to joking around with Minho about his dreams. Not a full on confrontation about how scary and weird they actually are. It’s strange talking about them to someone and he doesn’t feel quite comfortable. Talking about his dreams isn’t something he has actively done since that one time with his mom. 

Sure he tries to talk about them with Teresa, but he always gets shot down. Trying and doing are two totally different things. He didn’t know it would be this hard.

“What I’m trying to say is that our dreams are not exactly the same, Thomas. Yours are worse than mine. Who knows what T dreams about. Have you ever actually considered how they could be for her?”

Thomas opens his mouth to protest, of course he considers Teresa’s dreams, he’s been nothing but considerate. He barely ever mentions them to the girl, even though he so desperately wants to. She hates talking about them, he respects that. She doesn’t have to tell him about them if she doesn’t want to.

Then Thomas realizes that might be the reason why he doesn’t understand. It’s what Teresa has been trying to tell him all along. Thomas knows next to nothing about Teresa’s dreams. They’re not the same. Not exactly. 

Thomas doesn’t know what she goes through every night. He sees an apocalyptic world, filled with mad-eyed people, he sees the maze and the ugly creatures, the _Grievers_ , that live in it. In his worst dreams he catches glimpses of people dying on him. His dreams terrify him, no matter how hard he tries to ignore them, Thomas can’t escape from them. What if Teresa’s are worse?

Suddenly he feels very shitty. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t want to tell him about her dreams, or didn’t want to tell him the truth about that boy. She hates her dreams, Thomas has always known that. She doesn’t want to talk about them. He tries to convince himself he respects that decision, but how many times has he started a conversation about them, knowing that they make her uncomfortable.

He grimaces. He’s been a really bad friend to Teresa.

“Finally realized you’re being a shank, huh?” Minho teases, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. Thomas hates it when his friend is right. Minho is supposed to be the brawn between the two of them, not the brains. Since when does his friend have so much insight and since when is Thomas so oblivious to the feelings of others. 

Right about the time he started dreaming about that boy, Thomas supposes. Ever since he can’t think about anything else. His mind is filled with images of that boy. Every time he closes his eyes, dark eyes he can’t look away from, tousled blonde hair he needs to run his fingers through. Beautiful pale skin that begs to be touched.

He blames puberty.

“Ok yeah, I’ve been an asshole.” Thomas admits. Minho gives him a look.

“And?” His friend questions. 

Thomas sighs, “and I’ll apologize to her after school.” He finishes. Minho gives him thumbs up.

“Good that.” He says with a grin. Thomas rolls his eyes and ducks away when Minho tries to ruffle his hair. It’s already wet from the rain, one hair ruffle from Minho and it will never be tamed again.

“Let’s just go to class.” Thomas grunts.

Minho chuckles. He slings an arm over Thomas shoulders and steers them the right way, the hallways are nearly empty now, most people are already in class, where they should be too.

“Do you ever smile?” Minho asks, poking Thomas’ cheek with a finger. 

“Not on Monday.” Thomas answers. Though his friend probably didn’t need him to answer that. Minho knows Thomas is awful on Mondays. Right now his biggest concern isn’t the day or the bad weather though. Thomas needs to think of a good way to apologize to Teresa.

“Try to think positively,” Minho suggests, as they enter the right hallway, “you’ll probably never see that boy, so it would be useless for T to tell you who it is anyway.”  
Thomas freezes and Minho’s arm falls from his shoulders. His friend notices his slip up immediately.

“ _She told you_?!” He exclaims. 

Minho isn’t fazed by his outburst. “What was she supposed to do? You haven’t talked to her in two weeks, if anything I should be offended that you didn’t tell me!” He counters, “did you believe I would think badly of you?” 

Thomas looks away. He knows he’s hurt the Asian boy. Of course he trusts Minho, he was just confused himself, he still is confused. He doesn’t want his friend to think he needs to hide anything from him.

“No of course not! I just-”

The bell rings and cuts him off. Thomas curses. He needs to fix this, but he can’t afford to be late in class.

“This isn’t over.” He tells Minho. His friend just rolls his eyes, his annoyance very clear

They run towards their classroom and slip inside just as their teacher is about to close the door. She gives them a warning look and Thomas and Minho smile apologetically before taking their seats. 

The lesson starts. His teacher starts talking about the literature they were supposed to read for today. It doesn’t interest Thomas that much. When she starts to write down the meaning of certain metaphors she’s lost Thomas.

He can’t concentrate. His mind keeps wandering. It’s a lucky thing most of the things they learn here is easy for Thomas, otherwise he’d be in a lot of trouble. He subtly glances at Minho, his friend hasn’t looked at him since they came in and has given him the silent treatment. 

Great. That’s two friends not talking to him. Though Thomas really hopes Minho’s not too mad at him. He never meant to hurt his feelings. He’ll buy Minho a coke at lunch, hopefully that will get him forgiven.

Now Teresa’s harder, he can’t bribe her with food or sweet talk her into forgiving him. Not after two weeks at least. He better prepare himself to grovel on his knees for a few days before she will have a normal conversation with him again.

He’s so absorbed in his thoughts he doesn’t even notice the door to their classroom open until the monotone droning of his teacher fades away. Thomas doesn’t care though, he wasn’t listening anyway, he needs to figure out a way to make it up to Teresa. Maybe if he gives her chocolate, three bars of chocolate, maybe four if he wants to play it safe.

“Boys, girls, I’d like to introduce you to a new student, he moved here all the way from England.” His teacher interrupts his thoughts again. It doesn’t matter, they get new students all the time, they usually leave after a month or two.

Minho kicks him in the shin and Thomas grunts, he really doesn’t have time for his friend’s revenge right now. If Minho wants they can go back to his place later and then the boy can kick his ass at Mario Kart as long as he wants.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?” His teacher says. 

Another kick from Minho and this time Thomas turns to him and kicks back. Seriously what is his problem?

Minho isn’t glaring at him as Thomas expects though. No, his friend’s eyes are wide with disbelieve and he nods to the front of the class. Finally Thomas turns to look at their new student and when he does everything around him ceases to exist.

It’s like with Teresa, but it’s worse, or better, Thomas doesn’t know what to call it. All he can see is the new student at the front of their class, awkwardly standing there, picking at his sleeve. It’s _him_. the boy from his dreams. Only now he’s not in his dreams. He’s real. Thomas almost doesn’t believe it. 

He’s gorgeous. Better than in his dreams. Clearer. Thomas wants to stand up and touch him.

“The name’s Newt Isaacs.” The boy says. Thomas’ heart skips a beat. His accent is thick and his voice has a nice timbre. Thomas has only heard one sentence come from Newt’s mouth and he already wants more. He’s heard the voice in his dreams too. So many times he realizes now. But nothing compares to the real thing. 

It’s the hardest thing Thomas has ever done, but he manages to tear his eyes away from Newt for a second and look at Minho. His friend is staring at him in confusion.

‘ _Dude, that’s him._ ’ Minho mouths. Thomas can only nod. He doesn’t even bother to wonder how Minho knows that’s the boy. If he does have dreams now, it’s only logical his friend has seen Newt around somewhere.

Thomas can’t stand it to look away for too long though, not even a few seconds. Soon his eyes are drawn back to Newt and it’s like someone hits him with a Taser because when he looks at Newt again the boy is staring back. His dark eyes are wide, his mouth slightly open. Thomas heart is beating faster than ever, he can feel his cheeks grow hotter the longer their gazes hold. He can’t look away. 

He doesn’t know how long they stare at each other like that. It feels like an eternity, yet in reality it can’t have been longer than a few seconds. It doesn’t matter. Thomas doesn’t want it to end. He wants to drown in those eyes. The thought almost make him scoff, since when is he so terribly poetic. 

Newt averts his eyes first, when he’s directed to an empty desk by their teacher. Thomas feels the loss immediately.

It’s ridiculous, Thomas thinks. He doesn’t know Newt, apart from the images he’s seen of the boy in his dreams. He can’t be this obsessed with someone he has never even met before. Yet here he is, completely infatuated with a boy he has heard say only four words. 

The images from his dreams are rapidly becoming clearer. His head is filling with scenes and snippets of things he can never remember when he wakes up. Newt’s face isn’t blurred anymore, his voice isn’t drowned out.

Thomas doesn’t know if that’s a good thing though. Suddenly he can remember laughter, the most beautiful laugh he has ever heard, but also screams and cries, sounds he never wants to hear come from the blonde’s mouth in real life. And oh the moans, those aren’t real, Thomas knows, but it’s so easy to imagine him.

Any hope of paying attention in class has fled Thomas completely. He’s definitely screwed now. Not that it matters anymore, all he can think about is Newt, sitting only a few desks away. The way he had looked at him when their eyes met.

Newt knows him too, no doubt about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEWT! Finally.  
> Phew that took long enough.


	4. Chapter 4

At first Thomas thinks it’s fate. He has never believed in fate, Thomas firmly believes that they can shape their own futures. However, there’s something about dreaming of a guy for weeks and then having him show up in your class that can change your mind.

Thomas tries very hard not to stare, but he’s sitting two rows behind Newt and two tables to the left, so really, he has the perfect view. Newt hasn’t looked at him since that first time, his eyes are fixed on the whiteboard. Thomas can’t be bothered with the notes on the whiteboard, he’s much more interested in the way Newt bites the tip of his ballpoint.

He realizes he’s being a bit of a creeper, but nobody has noticed his incessant staring yet. Well nobody except for Minho, who is subtly trying to catch his attention. Reluctantly he turns to face his friend.

“You’re burning holes with your eyes.” Minho whispers and Thomas wishes he can say that’s not true.

“Did you see the way he looked at me?” Thomas asks instead, his eyes straying back to Newt. 

“Oh yeah, that’s your loverboy alright.” Minho drawls, “so you’ve been dreaming about Newt all this time, huh? Doesn’t surprise me.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Well you two are always together in my dreams, now that I remember him I can recall that much. You seem really close.” Minho clarifies. Thomas frowns, it’s true. Now that he thinks about it there’s an awful amount of Newt in his dreams. The context is unclear and the images are all over the place, but there’s no doubt about it that Newt plays a central role in his dreams.

The blonde still hasn’t looked at him. he seems more occupied with scribbling things down in his notebook and chewing on his pen. His eyes are dead set on their teacher and it almost feels like he’s deliberately avoiding to look at Thomas. 

“He doesn’t seem very interested in me.” Thomas mumbles sadly.

“We’re in the middle of class, you slinthead. What did you expect him to do? Leap into your arms and proclaim his undying love?” Thomas snorts. Of course he wasn’t expecting that, judging by the way he first met Teresa. A big amount of shock would be more like it. However if that had been Newt’s reaction he can’t say he would mind.

“Still, you’d think he’d be a little intrigued. He hasn’t looked at me once.” 

“we can’t all be creepers like you, Thomas.” His friend jokes.

Thomas huffs. “I’m not-”

“Mr Edison!” A sharp voice calls out. Thomas almost jumps out of his seat. His teacher is walking towards him with calculated movements. “Since you feel you don’t need to pay attention to my lesson, you obviously know the answer to my question.” Thomas sinks deeper into his chair, wanting to disappear. Unfortunately for him, the wood of his chair is very much solid and only digs painfully in his back. 

Usually Thomas knows the answer, whether he’s paying attention or not. He always manages to listen in just enough, to know what they’re talking about. This time however he has nothing. He was too occupied with tall, blonde and gorgeous. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs Waters. I- I didn’t hear the question. Could you repeat it please?” Thomas stutters, hoping he can save a bit of his dignity. His eyes wander to Newt and to his surprise the boy is looking at him. 

Thomas feels his cheeks flush, the boy is staring at him without any inhibition, a slight frown on his face but that doesn’t do anything to make Newt less appealing. The fact that Thomas has noticed Newt’s staring doesn’t seem to stop the boy, it’s like he has finally given in to look and now the blonde can’t look away. Thomas is not one to judge, he knows the feeling.

In the back of his mind he’s aware that his teacher is talking to him, he’s aware that he should probably listen to it too, because it’s the question he missed earlier. but really none of that matters when he has Newt’s eyes on him. Instead he wonders what he should do to keep them on him and never make them leave. 

Again Thomas is caught off guard by the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch, something he does so naturally in his dreams, but seems so impossible to do now. He wants to know if Newt’s skin is really so smooth, his hands rough and calloused from work in in the fields. 

Mrs Waters’ sharp voice cuts through his thoughts. It startles Thomas and reminds him of the ominous sound of ice breaking underneath his feet. He has never liked Mrs Waters.

He tears his eyes away from Newt and blinks at his teacher blearily. “Your answer, Mr Edison?” she stresses impatiently.

Thomas opens his mouth to say something, anything, but his mind provides nothing. “I…” he starts. It’s useless, he has no idea what they have been talking about this lesson. From the moment Newt walked in Thomas was lost.

“I don’t know.” He finishes lamely and casts his eyes down in shame. 

Thomas spends the rest of the lesson trying very hard not to look at Newt. He doesn’t dare after the lecture he was given by Mrs Waters. He keeps his eyes strained on his notebook, not even looking up at the whiteboard, he doesn’t trust his eyes not to stray. He’s not even listening or anything, he’s not trying to keep up with the lesson. He’s just trying very hard not to stare. So hard it hurts his eyes.

It’s torture. Thomas wants to look up. Wants to look at the boy that has been in his dreams nearly every night. He refrains. With clenched teeth, burning neck muscles, white knuckles and hurting eyes, he refrains. He can see Minho give him worried looks from the corner of his eye. 

The bell rings. Thomas gets out of his chair so fast he hits his knee, it doesn’t matter, he even bites back a curse. He needs to talk to Newt. Wants to hear his voice again. He almost trips over his backpack and in his haste to clean his desk from all his stuff he drops half of it on the ground. This time he does curse.

When Thomas has finally stuffed everything in his backpack, Newt is picking up his backpack and ready to leave. Thomas heart leaps and before he knows what he’s doing he calls out. 

“Hey! Newt, right?” Thomas finds himself shouting, as if he isn’t a thousand percent sure that this boy, the boy he dreams about every night, the literal boy of his dreams, is in fact, Newt. He wants to slap himself, he really does, but now Newt is looking at him and he can’t make a fool out of himself.

Newt doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow and waits. Thomas has never been so nervous in his life. He wrecks his brain for something useful to say, he called out without any plan of sorts. He just didn’t want Newt to leave. 

Newt’s eyes are so gorgeous up close though. Dark and brooding but in a way that fits Newt well, so Thomas can’t say it’s something negative. In fact Thomas can’t say anything at all. He can’t be at a loss for words every time this guy looks at him, that doesn’t bode well for the future. 

“Can I help you?” Newt says eventually, because Thomas is just staring and being a creep. The blonde doesn’t betray any sign of recognition this time, as if those stares hadn’t happened. In fact, he seems a bit reluctant to talk to Thomas, closed off and distant. It would bother Thomas more if he wasn’t so distracted, but damn Newt’s voice is the best thing Thomas has heard in his life and he finally gets why Prince Eric was so obsessed with Ariel’s voice and almost married Ursula because of it.

Thankfully that’s where Minho steps in, “Actually, we were wondering, since you’re new here, we could show you around.” His best friend chimes in and Thomas would seriously kiss him right now, but he doesn’t want to give Newt any false impressions. Still, Minho is his best friend in the world and he just saved Thomas’ skin.

Newt looks Minho up and down and Thomas doesn’t miss the fraction of a second where Newt’s eyes widen. It wasn't his imagination. Newt really does recognize them.

“Oh but where are my manners, I’m Minho,” the Asian boy proudly points a thumb at himself, then he reaches out for Thomas to shake his shoulder. “And this awkward shuck is Thomas.” 

It’s just a formality they’re trying to uphold, to not make this weirder than it has to be. They obviously recognize each other. Newt probably knows their names already. It goes unsaid though, nobody feels comfortable enough to bring it up.

“Newt.” The blonde answers his eyes flickering to Minho and then falling back on Thomas. “but you knew that already.” Newt looks at them intently, as if trying to break this pretend they’re enforcing. But if Newt had any double meaning with his words Thomas doesn’t follow up on it.

Minho senses the tension, “what do you say, Newt? You up for a tour?” he breaks the awkward silence that follows Newt’s statement.

“I have class.” Is the blonde’s simple answer. Simple, but it gnaws at Thomas’ insides. He was right earlier, Newt is reluctant. Doesn’t really want to be in their presence. 

“Yeah of course, but maybe after school, being the new kid ain’t easy.” He nudges Thomas, “this one over here would know.”

Thomas isn’t sure if this is his cue to tell Newt all about how he used to be a new kid too, to comfort him. He doesn’t get the chance.

“Look, I appreciate it,” Newt starts and Thomas’ stomach plummets. “but I’m fine, I’ll find my way.” 

Newt doesn’t give them time to reply to that, he turns and walks out of the classroom quickly. Thomas doesn’t know what to do. He just watches him go. 

“Well, that was awkward.” Minho blurts and Thomas groans. What did he do wrong? How did he mess up already? He buries his face in his hands. 

“You’ll get your chance.” Minho assures him and claps him on the shoulder. If it’s meant to be comforting it doesn’t work. A terrible feeling claws at Thomas’ chest, what if he was right, what if Newt isn’t interested in him. It doesn’t look like he wants anything to do with them.

The thought devastates him and the feeling continues to follow him through his lessons. Thomas thought it was fate, but it is already feeling more like divine punishment.

Newt is in almost every class Thomas attends. Not looking at him, not acknowledging him. the brief stare they shared in English literature seems to be all Thomas will get from the boy. Newt has the weird ability to disappear from a classroom before Thomas can approach him and Thomas starts to realize it's very deliberate. The two tables behind and two to the side isn’t a blessing anymore either. Just a constant reminder of the boy and how unattainable he is. 

By the time lunch rolls around Thomas is a mess. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has never been this obsessed with a person. Maybe a little with Teresa at first, because she’d been the first person he’d recognized, but she hadn’t ignored him. 

“Calm down.” Minho repeats for what it seems like a millionth time that day. He’s surprised his friend isn’t fed up with him already. With all the pining and staring and the: “ _why doesn’t he want to talk to me, Min?_ ”. 

“I am calm.” Thomas says through clenched teeth. But he’s not, he’s far from it. In fact, if Minho hadn’t stopped him just now, he would’ve run after Newt like a little lost puppy and begged that Newt let Thomas give him that tour and that isn’t the first impression Thomas wants to make.

He scans the cafeteria as soon as they enter it. He needs to find Teresa, he can’t wait to apologize after school. Not now. She will know what to do. At least he hopes so, if she doesn’t know, Thomas is pretty much lost.

She’s not sitting at their usual table, she hasn’t been since the first day of Thomas ignoring her. Honestly he can’t blame her. He wouldn’t want to sit next to him either, especially not now, he wonders how Minho keeps up with him.

He finds her sitting with a few girls from their class and he marches over. 

“Thomas.” She says without looking when he reaches her table. He doesn’t like that. He hates it when she calls him that. Teresa calls him Tom, always, Thomas from her lips sounds like poison and betrayal. It awakens that anger in him that he knows she doesn’t deserve. 

He takes a deep breath and wills that anger away, he’s not here to fight. When he opens his eyes all of the other girls are looking, no more like glaring at him. He rubs his neck nervously and stands there awkwardly, not knowing what to say. 

I’m sorry seems like a good start, Thomas figures. So that’s what he tells her. He’s not surprised when he only gets a hum in return. 

“Oh come on T, what do you want me to do, bow down and beg?” he says anyway, because he wants his Teresa back. He really needs to talk to her. He could use a little advice.

“It would be a start.” She says airily. If anyone else had said that to him, if Minho had said that to him, Thomas would have lost it. From Teresa he could take it. He was used to taking shit from her, all she did was give him shit, in the most well-meant and good natured way, he supposes.

“No, no way!” Minho interrupts and it startles them both. Thomas turns and there is Minho, he didn’t even know he had followed him to Teresa’s table. After a second thought, it was only logical, who else would his friend have lunch with?

Minho’s arms are crossed, they won’t be for long, if the boy is upset he starts to be very expressive with his hands and right now Minho is so done, Thomas can tell. “I’ve had to listen to this shuck shank whine all day because his precious loverboy won’t shucking look at him.” Minho starts and so far his hands and arms have already made so many movements Thomas lost count. 

“We are not wasting time on making Thomas look like an idiot.” he points to Teresa “You are going to accept his apology,” then to Thomas “and you are going to stop being such a slinthead, behave and actually listen to her. I can’t stand to hear another shucking whine about loverboy. ”

“Wait, who's loverboy?” a girl from Teresa’s table pipes up and then another, “Thomas is gay?” 

“Bi, actually.” Thomas corrects her before he can stop himself. The girls burst out in chatter and Thomas is reminded that they are in the overly crowded cafeteria and everyone has probably heard Minho’s outburst. People are looking at them and the girls from Teresa’s table lean in eagerly, ready for the latest gossip. Because who knew Thomas was into guys as well. This would be all over school by tomorrow.

Teresa hasn’t joined the conversation. If anything she seems very confused by it all, it’s understandable. Last time they spoke Thomas was hung up on the guy in his dreams and now there is a boy in school he is crushing on. She obviously doesn’t know about the British transfer student yet, or that they are in fact the same person.

“Oh for god’s sake, you’re still not talking to him?” Minho throws his hands in the air and it would have been funny if this wasn’t so important to Thomas. He really wants Teresa’s help. Minho and Thomas share a look. Thomas doesn’t know what to do and shrugs. 

So Minho drops the bomb. “It’s Newt! Loverboy is Newt.” The girls from the table erupt into gibberish. Thomas doesn’t even want to understand. He wonders if any of them even knows who Newt is. 

Teresa’s eyes widen and she turns to Thomas and he almost laughs at her expression. “Go away.” She breathes and stands up to drag Minho and Thomas away from her table. Her grip is iron but he doesn’t care. Thomas grins.

He has missed Teresa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is an awkward child and no one can convince me otherwise.
> 
> Ok so this was kinda hard to write, I hope I didn't completely screw up any of the characterizations. I have my doubts about Newt he's usually such a polite cinnamon roll. But this has its reasons of course. I'm just so glad he's finally there because now I get to write awkward flustered Thomas who can't keep his mind of Newt.
> 
> I wrote this in a bit of a rush, I was very excited because Newt's finally here! What can I say, I am a scatterbrain and lack concentration. So please, if you spot any mistakes, tell me! 
> 
> Also, I have exams coming up next week so i probably won't be able to update. I am sorry. But I will try to get a new chapter up as soon as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

They have this spot behind the school where they always hang out. It’s a park bench between a few trees and bushes, Thomas thinks it was placed there and then overgrown by nature, so most people have forgotten about it. He and Miho stumbled upon it when they were having a race and Minho pushed Thomas into the bushes. It’s a nice spot. Secluded from the rest of the world. In the summer the trees cast shadows over the bench and it’s always nice and cool. In the autumn and winter however, it usually gets too cold to hang out at The Spot, as they so creatively call it.

They’re at The Spot now though, they’re huddled together on the bench and wrapped up in warm winter clothes. Teresa has brought out her knitted hat, gloves and scarf already and it’s not even halfway October yet. Thomas suspects she won’t survive the winter.

“I swear T, it’s him, all blonde and tall and British and I recognized him instantly.” Thomas says for the hundredth time since he has explained what happened. It’s actually Minho who did most of the explaining, Thomas just moped and whined about how Newt didn’t even want to talk to them and refused their tour.

“You do believe us, right?” Thomas asks then, because he needs her to believe him, Thomas hadn’t realized how much he had missed the girl these two weeks until he finally talked to her again. He could finally get everything off his chest. Sure he could talk to Minho about some things, but it wasn’t the same. 

Teresa sighs and Thomas looks at her with pleading eyes. This isn’t some elaborate plan to get Teresa to talk about the boy in his dreams either. She has to realize that. Now that Newt is really here he doesn’t want to learn it from her. He wants to learn everything about Newt from the boy himself.

“Yeah…” Teresa answers hesitantly, “I do. It’s just hard to believe, you know? I always thought it was a miracle I found you two, but now Newt is here too…” She stares off into space. Thomas wonders how much she remembers. How many faces she can call by name.

“Makes you think about where the others are.” She murmurs, but Minho and Thomas heard her. It also answers Thomas’ question. He knows they used to be with a lot, most of them boys. The Gladers, his mind provides. He knows he wasn’t all that close to them all, but there are a few that stand out. People like Teresa, Minho and Newt. 

“Ya think we’ll get to meet them all?” Minho voices their thoughts out loud. Thomas shrugs, he doesn’t have a clue, but he thinks he’d like to meet them, if they’re all out there. He wants to remember the things he has forgotten. 

He looks at Teresa, you’d think she wouldn’t want to meet the rest of the Gladers, considering how much she hates her dreams. To Thomas’ surprise however, there’s a small smile on her face. 

“I’d like to meet them. With Newt suddenly appearing I wouldn’t rule it out.” She says softly. “I’d like to see everyone happy and alive.

Neither Thomas nor Minho responds to that. The statement lingers and makes the air around them heavy. Thomas shifts a bit and Teresa rests her head on his shoulder. Talking about it makes it real, Thomas realizes. 

The deaths in their dreams are not just horrific nightmares. He wonders what it would be like to relive those deaths with knowing who the people in his dreams were. Thomas thinks he wouldn’t be able to ignore them like he does know. Once he would remember his dreams would only get more horrifying. 

He recalls all the times he wished he could remember, the times he wanted to understand his dreams. Just this morning he had been angry with Teresa for not wanting to talk about them. But the more he thought about it, the more he began to realize how horrible their dreams actually were. Teresa is right, it would be better not to remember.

“But Newt, right?” Minho interrupts the heavy silence. “what’re we gonna do about him? The shank obviously knew us, even though he tried to hide it.”

“Maybe he was scared. It’s not every day the people you dream about every night come to life.” Teresa offers. Thomas can get behind that, Newt certainly hadn’t looked pleased to see him and Minho. Still, why had Newt ignored them then and he didn’t look scared when Minho offered a tour around the school.

“you weren’t scared when you met me.” Thomas reminds Teresa.

“I don’t think either of us understood the weight of our dreams back then, Tom.” 

That’s not entirely true, Thomas thinks. Ever since he was ten Thomas had understood his dreams were different. He knew not to talk about them to his mom, because his dreams were worrying. 

Teresa’s parents don’t even allow her to talk about her dreams. Part of them have always known the dreams sre something they shouldn’t talk about openly. It’s a taboo, even between the two of them. 

After meeting Teresa his dreams have gotten more and more present too and ever since he turned sixteen they have gotten worse, scarier and harder to keep to himself. Sure Thomas has gotten good at keeping quiet whenever he wakes up in the middle of the night and he can ignore his innate fear of the outside turning into wasteland, but they are weighing Thomas down. 

He can’t stop thinking about them anymore, there was a time where he was perfectly capable of ignoring them. He’d wake up with tears in his eyes but by the time breakfast was served his dreams were long forgotten and he would only remember them again when it was time for bed. 

Now he wants to talk to someone about them, it’s a need itching in his chest that grows every day. Some days he just wants to scream, let all that built up tension wash from his shoulders, but Thomas is afraid that once he starts he won’t be able to stop. All those years of pent up fears and frustration would come out and he’d break down.

The dreams about Newt are a bit of respite between the never ending nightmares. Because they are nightmares, Thomas can’t call them dreams anymore, the nicer ones he used to have in his childhood are far and in between. His head is filled with the horrors he dreams about at night and the fleeting unreal images of Newt. 

This Newt is real though. This isn’t someone his dreams just made up. He’s real and he’s here.

“I want to be his friend.” Thomas finally sighs and hangs his head . Minho squeezes his shoulder. If it’s meant to be reassuring it doesn’t work.

It’s not just because of the dreams. From the moment Thomas laid his eyes on Newt he was done for. His dreams don’t do Newt justice. The Newt in his dreams is always saturated, almost grainy, as if it’s an old film he’s watching. The real Newt almost glows. He’s lively, he’s real, and it makes Thomas’ heart do flips.

He knows it doesn’t make sense, normally Thomas is a rational person. Despite his dreams and all the crazy things he sees in them he always manages to keep his head above the water. And now, after speaking less than a few words to Newt, Thomas is unable to keep him off his mind. Not even Teresa threw him this off kilter. 

“You know, we could ask him to hang out?” Minho pipes up then.

Thomas wants to slap him. “we tried that Min, less than two hours ago, remember?” he scoffs. Teresa elbows him, as if to say he shouldn’t be rude just because someone doesn’t want to talk to him. Thomas sticks his tongue out to her anyway.

“I mean right now, you shank. He’s right there.” Minho goes on. Thomas turns around and follows Minho’s finger. He peeks past the bushes that conveniently block them from the public eye and true to Minho’s words, there is Newt.

Teresa lets out a gasp, because now she’s seen him and that makes it all real.

Newt is sitting alone, a little halo of sunshine around him and Thomas thinks it’s unfair because Newt already is beautiful, but in the sun he looks like an angel. The boy is leaning against the bark of a tree not too far away from them. He has a sketchbook in his lap and his eyes are focused on something in the distance. 

Newt’s bundled up in a coat that seems too cold for this weather, the tip of his nose almost matches the red beanie on top of his head. It suits him, Thomas decides. The little tufts of blonde hair springing free from underneath the beanie do weird things to his heart. Thomas figures he’s already way too deep if things like that drive him crazy.

“Let’s say hi.” Minho decides for them and before Thomas can do anything the Asian boy is already on his way over to Newt. There are a lot of reasons why Thomas thinks this isn’t a good idea, but it’s already too late. Newt has noticed Minho and Thomas doesn’t want to make this any weirder by lurking behind a bush and spying on them. 

He looks at Teresa, she shrugs. “Just go.” She says, “I’ll wait here.” So he follows. 

“Hey,” Minho greets Newt. Thomas follows with an awkward hey, but it gets stuck in his throat when Newt glances up from his sketchbook and his eyes catch the sunlight. He sees flashes of the same eyes, twinkling in the sunlight and lit up by fire. They’re always watching him with a kind of fondness that’s now missing. 

When Thomas blinks the spell is broken and he falls back to earth. He can’t bring himself to look Newt in the eye again though, so he lets them travel to the sketchbook on Newt’s lap, which the boy promptly closes before Thomas can even get a peek. It leaves Thomas disappointed.

“Hi.” Newt replies flatly. Thomas hopes the irritated look in his eyes is just his imagination. 

“You having lunch by yourself?” Minho carries the conversation on. “Cause you can join us if you want.”

Newt presses his lips together, his fingers flex around the pencil in his hand and he taps it on his sketchbook. “I wanted to be alone for a while, actually.” Newt answers after a few taps. Thomas recognizes a rejection when he hears one. Minho doesn’t.

“yeah I get that, but if you want to hang out, we’re up for it ya know.” Minho insists. Newt lets out a deep breath through his nose and Thomas wants to curl up into a ball, because he knows Minho is not going to take no for an answer.

“yeah, thanks.” Newt drawls, his eyes travel to Thomas. He must look uncomfortable, standing there, not having said a single word. Newt’s eyes narrow and Thomas wants to turn around and leave, they’re obviously not welcome. “I want to be alone.” 

Minho laughs, “Oh come on, nobody wants to be alone on their first day.” Newt’s grip on his pencil gets tighter and Thomas fears that it will snap any second now. It’s kind of a race, who will snap first, Minho, Newt, or the pencil.

“You’re right. I just don’t want to be around you guys.” Newt spits out.

“why the hell not?”

“Min, let’s just leave.” Thomas tries to intervene, he doesn’t want things to escalate and set off on the wrong foot with Newt, they already have of course, but right now it’s still salvageable.

“Not after this stupid shank tells us why he doesn’t want to talk to us.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here and asking me that. A lot of bloody nerve. As if you don’t know.” The boy is not looking at Minho while he says it, instead his eyes are boring holes into Thomas’. The words hurt him and he’s not even sure why. Thomas doesn’t understand what he’s done.

“What are you talking about?” Thomas asks. In the back of his mind he hears the same words echoed, but at another place and another time. It’s the first time he actually talks directly to Newt. There are no nerves this time, just confusion. He’s missing something. 

Realization dawns upon Newt. “you don’t remember.” He says quietly, then squeezes his eyes shut and rests the back of his head against the tree. “Of course you don’t remember.” He sighs.

“Now you’ve got me feelin’ like a shucking arse.” Newt groans. He stuffs his sketchbook into his backpack and then carelessly throws his pencil in too. “Bloody hell.” He curses again and stands up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. 

He looks at Thomas again, the bitterness in his eyes has vanished. “Just… just leave me alone.” He tells them and walks away. Neither Minho or Thomas move to stop him. 

“That didn’t go well.” Minho states.

Thomas quirks his eyebrow up at his friend. “You think?” he drawls and shoves his friend as he turns to walk back to Teresa. She’s still hiding behind the bushes, twiddling with the sleeves of her coat.

“Hey it’s not my fault he acted like that.” His friend calls after him.

“I told you he didn’t want to talk to us!” Thomas snaps.

“At least I was trying to do something! You just stood there and said nothing.” 

Thomas whirls around, Minho doesn’t know what it’s like, to dream about someone and then have them appearing right in your face. Minho’s dreams didn’t even start until recently. He’s ready to give Minho a piece of mind, but Teresa interrupts him.

“Guys stop it. It’s no one’s fault.” She says in a calm voice. She’s shivering, her skin is a pale bluish colour and her cheeks are rosy, but it doesn’t make her look any less intimidating. Her eyes shine with a determined fire.

“It’s that shanks fault,” Minho growls, crossing his arms. “What was up with Newt, I don’t remember him being such an asshole.”

Teresa sighs and wipes her sleeve across her cold nose. “When are you guys going to realize that is not the same Newt as from your dreams.” She scolds them, but it’s not like she has told them this before. 

“This kid may look like the best friend he was in your dreams but he’s obviously not! He has lived in another country for god’s sake!” 

She’s right. They may know all about what happened in that other world, or at least most of it in Thomas’ case, but he has no idea what Newt has been up to in this life. All he knows is that Newt is English and a transfer student. The Newt from his dreams didn’t draw or wear beanies. For all they know this is a whole different person.

The bell rings and they know they have to hurry inside if they don’t want to be late. Thomas doesn’t want to go inside, he doesn’t want to be subjected to more lessons that include staring at the back of Newt’s head. 

Teresa shoves them in the direction of the school building. “What I’m trying to say is, maybe we should get to know him first, like normal people. He’s not the person from your dreams Tom.” She tells him as they walk. 

“Easier said than done, he doesn’t even wanna talk to us.” Thomas whines.

Teresa rolls her eyes and slings her arms over Minho and Thomas’ shoulders. “Oh stop whining. Give it time, Minho and I hated each other at first and look at us now.”

“Not my fault you were a colossal bitch when we met.” Minho says with a grin, Thomas laughs because it’s true. To be fair, Teresa was hard to get along with, though Minho certainly didn’t make it easy for her. 

Teresa ignores her friend and pulls “Look, just say good morning tomorrow, the day after you ask about his day. It’s that easy.” 

Minho opens his mouth but Teresa beats him to it. “No pressuring him into joining us for lunch.” She says firmly. “He will come to us when he wants to.”

It sounds like a decent plan, a plan that’s going to take a lot of time too and Thomas has never been the most patient person. He’s willing to do it for Newt though, although he can’t shake off the strange feeling it gives him. He remembers Newt was the first to really welcome him into the Glade, he wonders what’s causing him to be so distant now.

The day drags on for what seems like an eternity and so does the rest of the week. Thomas spends it mostly staring at the back of Newt’s head or thinking about the boy when he’s not in the same class. He spends his night dreaming about Newt, even more then he used to.

On Tuesday Newt ignores him when Thomas stutters a good morning, the brit just shoots him an annoyed look. It was to be expected.

On Wednesday, Thomas’ stutter is gone, but Newt doesn’t even look up.

On Thursday Thomas is late, class has already started and he stumbles in, out of breath and red in the face. The teacher has already started with her lesson but it doesn’t stop Thomas form walking past Newt’s desk and wishing him a good morning. 

He counts Newt’s flustered face as a win.

Thomas doesn’t expect Friday to be any different. Newt’s already there, as usual, the boy is very punctual. When he and Minho walk up to him Newt beats them to it.

“Morning.” Newt says. It’s just a breath of air and Thomas almost misses it. The blonde boy doesn’t look at them, busy with unpacking his books. Thomas doesn’t care. He doesn’t think anything will bother him that day anymore. 

When he responds to Newt his stutter is back, but it’s the kind of nervous, giddy stutter that comes from too much excitement. He’s sure Newt notices it too because the corner of his lips quirk up just a tiny bit.

“You’re not gonna be able to focus at all today, are ya?” Minho asks when they sit down at their regular tables at the back of the class. Thomas shakes his head, his eye glued to the back of Newt’s head. 

“You can copy my notes later.” Minho sighs.

Thomas doesn’t stop grinning for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, this chapter is so late and I'm so sorry. I'll try to update sooner next time, I was just really busy with school and it slipped my mind.  
> So a little bit of progress in this chapter, contact has been established and even a little bit of hope there in the end!  
> Also Newt in a beanie, it's a good look on him trust me. And he also draws, because... just because. Don't tell me it's not cute.  
> I'm excited for future chapters where I can write more Newtmas interaction, which will be coming soon!
> 
> If there are any mistakes please tell me, I will fix them as soon as possible!


	6. Chapter 6

It has officially become too cold to spend their lunchbreaks outside. So after avoiding it for as long as possible, Thomas is now packed together with a thousand of other students in their cafeteria, like sardines in a tin can. 

Thomas’ right side of his body is pressed flush against Teresa’s and normally he doesn’t mind, but it’s stuffy in the cafeteria. The room is too hot for so many teenagers to be cramped up in one place. It doesn’t help people are staring at them either. 

Or rather at Thomas. It was to be expected, after Minho had let it slip that Thomas had a so called loverboy. Thomas hadn’t noticed, because he spent his lunchbreaks outside all week, watching Newt draw like the creepy stalker he is. 

“He’s looking at us.” Says Minho from the other side of the table. The boy nods his head to the right, where Newt is sitting. 

“Everyone is looking at us.” Thomas points out, he doesn’t bother to look up. Thomas knows the boy is sitting there, he noticed Newt the moment he entered the cafeteria.

“I think he’s angry.” 

Thomas sighs, of course he is. “That’s because you told those girls we have a thing going on.” 

Teresa shoves him with her elbow. “Don’t you?” She teases. Minho smirks and does his infamous eyebrow wiggle. 

“Slim it.” Thomas warns his friends. Thomas had hoped the rumours would never take off, or at least die out by the end of the week. Turns out there’s nothing juicier than the crush of a semi-popular, assumed to be straight guy on the new English transfer student, the question whether they have a thing or not is just the cherry on the cake. To top it off, Newt hadn’t heard any of these rumours, until today.

Thomas risks a glance at the boy. Newt is sat at the end of the table, ignoring the rest of the students, though there is no denying that all the students from their year are giving him looks. His eyes meet Thomas’ and just as Minho said, the boy doesn’t look all too pleased. Newt visibly takes a deep breathe and jabs his food with his fork.

Thomas bashfully averts his eyes. “We should invite him over.” Teresa suggests.

“Did you miss the part where I said he’s angry at us?” 

“Oh come on, he’s been staring at us all through History too, it can’t be all anger.”

“He doesn’t stare, you keep talking to him.” Thomas snaps.

History is the only class he shares with Teresa and coincidentally also with Newt. Thomas thought sharing a class with Minho and Newt was bad, but sharing one with Teresa breathing down his neck is the absolute worst. Thomas never thought he would be able to admit that sometimes Minho can be a lot more subtle than Teresa.

Teresa doesn’t keep to herself, she seeks Newt out, last lesson she dragged Thomas to sit right beside Newt. She asks the boy for answers to questions, not because she doesn’t know, but because she wants an excuse to talk to Newt. If she didn’t try so hard to include Thomas in those conversations he would be convinced Teresa likes Newt. She is set on becoming friends with the new student.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she stopped there, she doesn’t. Teresa teases, she makes innuendos. Teresa makes it painfully obvious how much Thomas can’t keep his eyes of Newt, _“What are you staring at Tom?”_ is something Teresa says too often.

It’s a wonder the boy hasn’t run away from them yet. Newt has made it clear in the beginning he wants nothing to do with them and yet they keep pushing him. Invading his space while the boy asked them not to. Thomas doesn’t want to scare him away, but he fears the rumours are the final straw. 

Thomas moves his leftover food around on his plate, he’s not feeling hungry anymore, in fact just the thought of food makes him feel nauseous. It’s way too hot in the cafeteria and for once he can’t wait for lunchbreak to be over. 

“Hi.” The simple word pulls Thomas away from his thoughts. The three friends look up, to Newt, who shuffles a bit on his feet, uncomfortable with their surprised eyes on him. “does the offer of having lunch together still stands?” he asks.

“oh- yeah, yeah of course!” Minho exclaims, a grin spreading over his face and eyes crinkling with delight. Newt doesn’t stop surprising them.

Thomas’ heart almost leaps out of his chest when Newt slides onto the bench next to him. He could sit next to Minho, there’s enough room, but he sits next to Thomas, on the tiny space left, their legs squeezed together.

“We should make it easy on them, only one place to stare at, easier on their necks.” Newt explains his sudden behaviour. Thomas nods, shifting to the side a bit, Newt’s leg is like a curling iron burning through his skin.

“Care to tell me why?” Newt inquires then. Thomas doesn’t know what to say.

“Why?” he repeats. Newt turns to him, dark eyes shining with amusement. It’s the first time he looks at Thomas like that in real life, but he swears he has seen the same expression before. His stomach flips and Thomas realizes this is probably the closest he has been to Newt until now. 

“Why’s everyone staring.” The boy next to him clarifies in a whisper. 

“You mean you haven’t heard yet?” Teresa joins in. Across of them Minho snickers, the bastard, Thomas kicks him under the table. 

“Bits and pieces,” Newt admits, “but I figured I’d just come to the source.” His eyes fall on Thomas again. Thomas sighs, he’s not sure what Newt already knows, he’s not sure what he wants to tell him.

“It’s nothing really, just ignore it.” Thomas mumbles.

“He freaked out after meeting you,” Minho reveals, Thomas isn’t even surprised. “I might’ve called ya something that got a lot of people talking.” 

“Nothing bad I hope?” 

Minho shrugs, “depends on what you think’s bad.” He answers. Newt laughs, a genuine laugh and it’s mesmerizing. It’s such a change from how Newt’s been acting, Thomas doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

Thomas has seen it a thousand times before and truthfully, he does know how to respond. He wants to joke along, but there’s this tiny voice in the back of his mind that keeps reminding him that this is not the Newt from his dreams, this is a different boy, and he needs to treat him as such.  
He turns to Thomas, “You freaked out?” 

“You would too if you suddenly saw the boy from your dreams…” Thomas slips. It’s soft and he’s sure they wouldn’t have heard if Teresa and Newt hadn’t been glued to his sides. Newt’s posture goes rigid, his eyes widen and the heat that rushes to Thomas’ head is almost unbearable.

“I mean- not literally,” He lies immediately, though truth be told his words are true in both the figurative and literal sense. “I was talking about the dreams, about the Glade, you- you have them right?” 

Newt slides away from him a bit, leaving his leg surprisingly cold and Thomas knows he has fucked up.

“Shit, I’m sorry, you don’t have to talk about them. I shouldn’t have brought them up. Teresa always tells me not to bring them up so casually, it’s-”

“It’s fine,” Newt interrupts, “it’s why I came over actually.” He laughs again, but it’s more nervous now.

“You said we had to leave you alone.” Minho brings up.

“That didn’t stop you guys from being so bloody persistent, so I thought I might figure some things out.”

“About the dreams.”

“I was gonna ask you myself, but you beat me to it.” Newt admits. The tension is palpable between them, just because of that one word. Newt leans forward, his shoulders squared and jaw set.

“Any idea where they come from?” he asks in a low voice, almost drowned out by the buzz in the cafeteria. The three of them shake their heads.

“Mine only started a few weeks ago.” Minho admits. 

Newt frowns, then turns to Thomas and Teresa, “What about you?” 

“I’ve had them for as long as I can remember.” Teresa tells Newt, she shifts, Thomas can tell she’s uncomfortable. So he reaches under the table and squeezes her hand.

“Same for me.” Thomas says.

“yeah, me too.” Newt runs a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh. Thomas understands Newt’s frustration, in the end they still don’t know anything about the dreams, not where they come from or why they have them.

“Have your dreams been, I don’t know, weird lately?” Teresa speaks up then.

Thomas freezes, she can’t be implying what he thinks she is.

“What do you mean?” Newt asks.

“Have you had dreams which weren’t real, not as real as the others I mean. About things you know haven’t happened. Things that are… unusual.” 

Thomas takes a deep breath, tries to keep his calm. Newt doesn’t know she’s asking because of him. The boy doesn’t have to know about Thomas’ dreams. Newt is quiet for a long while and Thomas’ insides are squirming. Part of him doesn’t want to know, another part of him is aching to find out.

“No, I don’t think so.” Newt answers and even though Thomas tries not to care he feels his heart sink. 

“What about… Have your dreams been getting worse?”

This time it doesn’t take long at all, “Every day.” Newt answers simply.

The bell rings and Newt stands up to gather his stuff.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” Newt says and turns around.

“Wait!” Thomas calls after him, again without a plan, he just doesn’t want Newt to leave yet.

He wracks his brain for an excuse and decides to go with the one Minho had saved him with before. “What about that tour? Since you’re not avoiding us anymore.”

Newt smiles, “Good that. Tomorrow, after school?” He asks.

Thomas nods and watches as Newt walks away. He feels like he has just won the lottery. Minho claps him on the back and Thomas can barely contain he his laugh. He can’t wait for tomorrow. 

The next day however, brings disaster. Well, maybe not literally but that’s how Thomas feels. There is one thing worse than his regular nightmares and those are fever dreams. They’re worse because reality and his imagination fade into each other and he can’t tell apart what’s real and what’s not. They’re more vivid, no blur to hide any of the horrors.

The maze is endless this night. He’s leading the group of Gladers like so many times before in his dreams but this time the Grievers get too close. He doesn’t know where he’s going, Minho is nowhere in sight. 

An ear crushing rumble sends shivers down Thomas’ spine. Before him the maze is moving, the wall right in front of them closing. Thomas shouts, wills his legs to move faster but he’s met with stone. Behind him the Grievers screech, too close for comfort. Thomas pounds his fist on the wall, it’s no use. 

Screams of Gladers pierce his ears, he wants to cover his ears but he finds himself frozen. His friends get stung left and right, the ground is covered in the Griever’s mucky slime. Thomas doesn’t want to see, yet he can’t look away. 

Pain sprouts from his leg, he’s been stung before. He remembers the pain. The scent of blood fills his nose, he never realized blood could have such a heavy smell. Sharp and pungent. It’s dizzying. The maze turns upside down before fading away entirely. 

A boy lays in Thomas’ arms, curly hair plastered to his forehead, blood pouring from a wound in his chest. Tears stream down Thomas’ face, his throat feels raw from screaming. He wants to turn away, there’s no way he can live through this again, but he can’t leave this boy, not again. 

He’s pulled away by forceful hands, turned around and he’s running again. Down the corridor through a door, but there’s no Scorch waiting from him behind that door.

The room is packed with people, dancing to a beat that drones through Thomas’ skull. His head pounds, his body is heavy. The lights are blinding him and he’s searching for something but can’t remember what.

Everyone’s looking at him, with eyes filled with madness, grins lopsided on their faces. They push Thomas around, hands claw at his body and Thomas can’t get away. The room is sweltering and it becomes unbearable once he starts recognizing faces.

Minho and Teresa emerge from the crowd, mouths open wide and screeching. Their skin is covered in wounds and unhealthy colour even in the unnatural lights. Their veins are black, their eyes shine with the same madness as everyone else in the room. Thomas stumbles back but a body behind him stops him. He turns around and sees Newt. 

It’s the first time in years he wakes up screaming. 

His mom is in his room within seconds. 

“Shh honey it’s ok, you’re home it’s ok.” She whispers frantically, pushing the hair from his sweaty forehead. Her hands are icy on his skin, her eyes are wide. The room is spinning, his breath comes is shallow gasps. He’s on his feet and bolting for the bathroom before he knows it.

He makes it just in time, before he hurls into the toilet bowl. His mom is right beside him, rubbing his lower back. He rests his head against the cold toilet seat, but doesn’t close his eyes. Thomas has never seen so much death in his dreams, he’s not sure which ones were real or not either.

Eventually his mom pulls him away from the toilet and guides him back to bed. “Get some sleep.” She tells him. Thomas doesn’t want to sleep, he doesn’t ever want to close his eyes again. He can’t fight it though, his eyelids are heavy and determined to fall closed. Both his mind and body are tired.

The rest of the night he drifts in nothingness, in and out of sleep, it’s the worst night of sleep he’s ever had and when his alarm rings he’s actually glad the night’s over. He drags himself out of bed out of pure determination, today he gets to give Newt a tour, he reminds himself. It’s enough to fight the wave of nausea that tries to pull him back under. 

He gets ready in a haze and forces his tired body to walk down the stairs. 

“What are you doing here?” His mom is on him the moment he steps into the kitchen.

“I’m going to school.” He says.

“No you’re not.” 

Thomas never thought he would fight his mom on wanting to go to school. There's a first time for everything.

“Mom I have to go to school.” He tells her. She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, it’s times like these that she looks a lot like Teresa, or rather, Teresa looks like his mom. He can certainly see where T has learned the art of bossing him around.

“What possible reason could you have to go to school?”

Thomas shrugs, he can’t exactly tell her there’s a boy he has been dreaming about for forever, and he really wants to give him a tour after school. He hasn’t told his mom about his sexuality, mostly because he hasn’t known about it for long himself. He doesn’t think she’ll take it the wrong way, he’s just not ready to tell everyone about it. 

“Do you have an important test?” 

“No.”

“Lessons you can’t miss?” 

Thomas shakes his head and sags his shoulders.

“Then go to bed.” She orders him. “I’ll make you soup for later.”

So Thomas drags himself upstairs again, which feels like climbing the Mount Everest. He shrugs of his clothes and dives into bed. He’s gone within seconds.

The next time he wakes up the sun is halfway across the sky, he has slept almost the entire day away. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Thomas almost falls out of his bed. He rolls over and meets the grinning faces of his two best friends. 

Thomas groans and buries his head in his pillow. “How did you get in here?” He rasps, his voice sounds like he feels, completely wrecked.

“Backdoor.” Minho says. Thomas should have known.

“How are you feeling?” Teresa asks. 

“Like crap.”

“Well you better recover by Friday.” Minho teases, and the smirk he’s got plastered on his face is smug even for Minho’s standards.

“Why?”

“Well while you were wonderfully absent, we got assigned a group project for History.” Teresa starts, she can’t even hide the excitement in her voice, she’s practically vibrating in Thomas’ armchair. “Guess who’s in our group and coming over on Friday.”

It takes Thomas’ muddled brain a while to register her words, but when he finally does he can’t keep the grin off his face.

“You didn’t!” 

“You can tell me you love me later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, I have no other excuse than that I'm a chaotic mess. To make up for it, this chapter is a little bit longer. 
> 
> As always, if you spot any mistakes please let me know! I will fix them asp.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is the chapter that bumps up the rating, if you don't like it then... uhm I'm sorry? But who am I kidding, most of you do.

Friday can’t come soon enough to Thomas liking, he spends the next two days at home, mother’s orders, he doesn’t protest much this time, even though he feels a lot better already. There’s nothing that makes school worthwhile that day, no promise of guiding Newt around at school and getting to know him better. He’s heard enough from Minho and Teresa, more than enough.

Thomas knows they mean well, they didn’t come to his house to rub it into his face he wasn’t there, but he can’t help but be bitter about it. He doesn’t know what he expected, it’s not like Newt would call off the tour just because Thomas was sick. Even though that’s exactly what he hoped would happen. They had a lot of fun, it seems, his friends couldn’t stop talking about it. Of course Thomas doesn’t resent them for it. 

He is jealous.

Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Thomas isn’t the only one who knew Newt before all this. Newt was their friend too. It’s even harder to admit that Minho and Newt were something like best friends. This isn’t all about him, even though, deep in his heart, he wants it to be.

There’s a burn in his chest every time he thinks about Minho and Teresa spending time with Newt without him. Thomas doesn’t like it. He knows it’s ridiculous, he knows those are dangerous thoughts, awfully obsessive.

Thomas tries to take his mind off of it. He buries those feelings like he does with his dreams, watching reruns of cartoons he’s seen a million times before and videogames he has already finished. It’s perfect, it’s mindless, it keeps him occupied. He wastes his day away on the couch and in the end he’s not even feeling sorry for it. 

Until Teresa texts him.

 **From: T**  
**Did u find a subject for the group project yet?**

Thomas sighs, running a hand through his hair. He had told Teresa he was feeling a lot better that morning and that his mom was keeping him home just in case. So she asked if he could do some research and pick a few subjects while she and Newt slave away at school. It had completely slipped his mind. 

He looks down at himself, at the plaid blanket his mom had draped over him that morning, he hasn’t moved since. Crumbs of cookies and other snacks cover his torso and legs, he kicks the blanket off in mild disgust. Lazing around for a full day has helped him sort his thoughts but usually Thomas doesn’t like doing nothing, it makes him feel restless, he always has to keep moving. 

That doesn’t mean he does his school work, well he does, but he likes to procrastinate until the last possible minute. He’s not like Teresa, she’s diligent, always pushing herself to learn more. Thomas is lazy, but only because he can afford it. He’s smart and has the luxury of being able to do stuff last minute and it still being good. He feels bad for Minho sometimes, because he actually has to work his ass off for every grade he gets.

That being said, Thomas has a whole different attitude when working in groups. He sends Teresa a quick text that he’s working on it, then forces himself to walk upstairs and find his schoolbooks and laptop in the mess that is his room. He doesn’t want to let down his groupmates, for some reason working with people always works as extra pressure, more motivation, he doesn’t want to drag them down when he does a bad job. 

In fact, Thomas works harder than he would on his own. It’s worse when he teams up with Teresa, he knows how much she values her grades and he doesn’t want to bring them down. Now he has Newt in his group, Thomas doesn’t want to say he’s trying to impress him, but that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

He works until his mom gets home, after dinner he holes himself back up in his room to finish what he started. That’s how he ends up with a wide variety of different topics to choose from, paired with gathered information and important facts and a list of books they could use. He has overdone it, Thomas knows that, and proves it when he passes out on his bed, laptop in his lap. 

In his dream Thomas sits by the bonfire. Newt is next to him, the night air around them is cold, lessened by the warmth of the fire behind them. The atmosphere is filled with thick wisps of smoke and the calming scent of burning wood. 

Newt has a glass of some sickeningly yellow liquid in his hand. “Want some?” Newt asks. Thomas’ instincts tell him not to drink it, in the back of his mind he knows he doesn’t want to, but he stretches his hand out anyway and takes it from Newt. 

He holds Newt’s gaze over the rim of the glass as he takes a big gulp, there’s nothing to hide him from Thomas, no blurred outlines or clouded vision. He’s as clear as the stars lighting the sky above them. Thomas can’t look away. The boy’s eyes burn like the coals of the fire behind them and the golden glow of flames dance over his face. It’s mesmerising. 

He sputters and coughs as the drink makes its way down his throat. Newt throws his head back and laughs, his eyes crinkling with delight. On the ground where their hands rest in the dirt their fingers brush, Newt doesn’t move away. 

“Slower, Greenie.” Newt instructs in a soft voice. Had Thomas been awake he would know this was a sign it would be one of those dreams. 

Thomas takes another sip, careful this time, not as big as the previous one. The drink glides down his throat unpleasantly and some of it slips down his chin. It’s cool against his glowing skin. 

Newt slides closer and slowly takes the glass from Thomas’ hands. Their eyes lock. He’s so close Thomas can smell the liquid on his breath, if it was anyone else it would have grossed him out, but this is Newt and he only wants to be closer to him. 

Newt brings up his hand and catches the stray drop on Thomas’ chin with his thumb. He traces it back up to his mouth and swipes it along the curve of the other boy’s lip. Thomas flicks out his tongue, easing the burn on his chapped lips. The hand lingers on his cheek, caressing his cheekbone, before sliding fingers into Thomas’ hair. Thomas’ breath hitches when the boy curls his hand around the back of neck, tugging him closer and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

It’s the catalyst that sets everything in motion, their noses brush and Newt looks at up at him from under his eyelashes, eyes dark with desire. Something in Thomas awakens, he reaches out and crushes their lips together. 

There’s nothing slow or gentle about the kiss. It’s rushed, desperate, because somewhere in the back of his mind Thomas can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t going to last forever. He’s going to lose this, lose Newt. It’s an innate fear Thomas doesn’t understand, it makes him press harder, grip tighter and kiss Newt deeper. 

He wants more, can’t ever get enough of this boy.

He pulls Newt onto his lap, his hands settle on the boy’s waist and he bucks up. Maybe it’s too much, too soon, but Newt isn’t complaining. He moans into Thomas’ mouth and grinds down, meeting up with Thomas’ thrusts. 

Thomas groans when Newt scoots up, angling their hips just right, rolling them into Thomas’ like he has never done anything else in his life. Thomas leans back against the tree behind him and looks up at Newt. He wants to savour this moment. Newt is beautiful. Enveloped in the golden glow of the fire, like the boy has been put in the spotlight just for Thomas. 

“Bloody hell, Thomas.” Newt gasps, his mouth is red and his bottom lip bleeding from every time Newt bites it to keep his voice down. His cheeks are dusted pink, the rest of his skin glistening in sweat from the fire and the heat of their bodies pressed tightly together. 

Thomas eyes fall to the tantalizing strip of bare skin where Newt’s shirt has ridden up, he glides his thumb over it, just above the band of Newt’s pants. Teasingly he dips his cold fingers beneath the waistband, just a second, to make Newt gasp. He never though he’d find a person’s breathing so alluring. 

He travels his fingers back to push Newt’s shirt up slowly, kissing the skin that’s revealed inch by inch. The boy on top of him huffs, pulls the shirt over his head and drops it in the grass. Thomas moves his hands over Newt’s chest, to his shoulders down his arms to his hands.

“Kiss me.” Newt demands and his voice is so breathless, so filled with need, how can Thomas refuse? He takes his time though, letting his lips travel over the newly exposed flesh. He traces Newt’s collarbone with his tongue and nips at his neck. His teeth graze over the sensitive skin and Newt shudders, hips stuttering and nails digging through Thomas’ shirt into his back. He wants Newt to push his nails harder into his skin, he wants the scratches, he wants it to hurt, so he’ll be reminded of this moment every time he moves.

He pushes forwards, until Newt tumbles backwards, hitting the soft grass behind him. Thomas is on him in an instant, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the underside of his jaw. Newt moans, dragging his nails down Thomas’ back to his ass and squeezing, pulling him down.

 _“Thomas!”_

Thomas jerks awake to the loud high pitched voice. The world around him is a hazy mess and he has to blink a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes. He’s on his stomach, in his bed, his sheets are plastered to the bare skin of his back and his boner is digging painfully in the mattress under him. 

“Shit.” He curses. He groans into his pillow, pressing the heel of his palm against his crotch, he’s so close and there’s nothing he can do about it, because those are footsteps coming up the stairs he hears. His only relief is that he's wearing his loose pyjama bottoms.

“Don’t come in!” He shouts when he hears the footsteps come closer, but it’s too late. The door is pushed open with a bang. 

“Thomas you lazy piece of shit get out of bed.” Teresa announces her arrival. 

“T please leave.” Thomas tells her, he thinks the mortification in his voice should be enough to chase his friend away, but the one time he needs Teresa to be observant she ignores it. Instead she waltzes over and pulls the sheets away from his body. Thomas yelps and moves his hands so he can push his hips further into the mattress. There are some things Teresa doesn’t have to see, even if they are best friends.

“I’m serious we’re gonna be late.” She says. 

Thomas wants to curl up into a ball and hide from the world, but that would probably expose his problem. “I’m serious too, please leave.” He can’t even bear it to look up at her, every movement is too much. He wants his bed to swallow him whole.

“I know you’re not sick anymore, Tom.” He can imagine how she looks right now, arms crossed, lips pressed in a thin line, eyes stormy. She’s not going to leave if he doesn’t give her a decent excuse, or in this case a mentally scarring one. 

“I know. Just…” Thomas gulps and turns his face so he can look at her, careful to not turn his lower body with him. “I need a minute to sort myself out.” He whispers. He kind of hopes Teresa doesn’t hear it, but her eyes widen and flick to where he’s hiding his problem.

“Oh my god.” She breathes and quickly turns around, he knows she’s trying to hide her laugh, but her shoulders are shaking and he can hear her snorts. If Thomas wasn’t so mortified he would find this funny too. Maybe one day they can both laugh about this. 

“I’m sorry.” Teresa laughs, “I’ll just- I’ll wait downstairs while you uh, fix your problem.” She doesn’t turn around to look at him when she leaves the room. “Don’t take too long, I’m leaving in ten minutes.” She says through the door.

Thomas rolls over and lets out a deep sigh, that had to be one of the more embarrassing moments in his life. Though it could have been worse, it could have been his mom. His mom wouldn’t have hesitated to drag him out of bed.

He looks down at his crotch, no signs of improvement, he is a teenager and his dick is persistent that way. Thomas doesn’t think he can will it away either, if Teresa walking in on him didn’t bring it down, he doesn’t know what will. Besides of course the obvious solution. 

He will forever have to live with the knowledge that he jerked himself off with Teresa in the house and that she knows he did and that she’s probably going to tell Minho. At least now there’s nothing that can ruin their friendship anymore, they have shared it all. Thomas squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about that as he shimmies his pyjama bottoms down. 

It won’t take long, he assures himself as he wraps his hand around his cock, he was so close already. It will probably be the quickest orgasm he will ever have in his life and this time he will not even feel bad about it. 

“Seriously Thomas, if we’re late we’re getting detention.”

“Fucking hell, why are you still in front of the door.” Thomas swears.

“Sorry! We just can’t get detention today, remember? Newt’s coming over.”

He ignores how Newt’s name makes his heart skip a beat. “Go away.” He shouts and maybe it’s harsh, but he’s not talking to his friend when he has his hand on his dick. He does have some decency, unlike Teresa who knows exactly what’s going on and yet was still in front of his door.

Finally, he hears her walk down the stairs and he feels less awkward to fix his problem. He tries not to think about it too much, if he starts thinking he might remember Teresa is downstairs, waiting to give him a ride to school. 

He moves his hand up and down in short quick jerks. His mind is plagued with images from his dream. It feels kind of weird to think about Newt while masturbating now he knows him in person, wrong even, like he’s betraying Newt’s trust. 

He can’t help it though, there’s no way to ban the images from his mind. The bonfire. He can’t get out of his head how gorgeous Newt looked. Blonde hair, beautiful dark eyes, Newt’s mouth, his flushed cheeks. Thomas moans, he can feel the familiar coil in his lower stomach. He squeezes his hand around the head of his cock, thumbs the slit and then he’s coming. 

It’s not as intense as it could have been, if Thomas had actually been trying to enjoy himself, he didn’t have time for that. He gives himself a moment to gather himself and then he’s pushing up and removing his bedsheets to throw them in the wash. He has the quickest shower humanly possible and then rushes downstairs. 

“Shut up.” Thomas says when he gets in Teresa’s car. He can’t look her in the eye. He knows she’s smirking and he knows she will not let this go, ever. This is going to be one of those stories that she’s going to talk about when he’s getting married and she has the right to tell embarrassing stories.

“I didn’t say anything.” She replies. They spend the rest of the way in silence, Thomas is fine with this, he needs time to get over his embarrassment.

Of course Teresa can’t let him suffer in silence. “I suppose we’ll be working on the project in my house, since you got off on Newt in your room and haven’t hidden the evidence yet.” Teresa states when she pulls up in the parking lot across the school. 

Thomas glares at her, but agrees. He wants to tell her she’s wrong, that he has, in fact, cleaned his room after this morning’s debacle, because he’s not a moron. He doesn’t though, he wants to forget the whole thing as soon as he can. 

It’s then, when he gets out of Teresa’s car, that he realizes he won’t be forgetting that dream at all. Somehow, of all the people walking into their school, he picks out Newt’s red beanie. His heart does a summersault, his palms are sweaty in an instant and he can’t keep the images of that stupid dream out of his head. Thomas wonders how he will be able to spend the entire afternoon with Newt without going crazy.

Suddenly it’s Friday all too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope that was alright, not real smut or very graphic or anything but this is my first thing ever publishing something like this and it was really hard writing it because I didn't want to do it wrong and writing this stuff is just kind of awkward and of course I had to make it even more awkward with Teresa barging in.
> 
> No real Newt in this chapter but there was some action so I don't think anyone would mind, even though I interrupted that... hahaha.  
> I'm not sorry.
> 
> Next chapter things will finally start progressing with the actual relationship between Newt and Thomas, so look forward to that!
> 
> As always, English is not my first language, so if you spot any mistakes please let me know! Constructive criticism and ideas are also very appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

Thomas can’t tell Minho why he’s acting weird, weirder than usual. That doesn’t mean Minho hasn’t noticed, of course he has noticed, it’s blatantly obvious and even if it wasn’t, they have been best friends for years, Minho can tell when something is off. Minho knows that Teresa knows why Thomas is acting weird. He hopes that for once in her life she will keep her pretty little mouth shut.

“Dude, what’s up with you?” Minho asks for what must be the thousandth time that day. Thomas shakes his head, he won’t tell Minho, not this time, he doesn’t care if the boy gets jealous because Teresa does know. Teresa wouldn’t have known either if he could help it. He doesn’t want to ignore his friend, but all Minho wants to talk about it what’s wrong with him.

He’s fidgety, he squirms in his seat, he just can’t seem to sit still. He tries, it’s hopeless. He knows it’s driving Minho crazy and it will not take much longer before his friend will blow his fuse. But moving is what helps him stay focused, it keeps his eyes from straying to Newt. Because if there is one thing that could make Thomas’ day even worse, it would be popping a boner in class. 

Newt is watching him too, has been ever since lunch, Thomas can feel his eyes burning into him. It’s because the way he acted today, Thomas couldn’t help it, he was unprepared to see Newt leaning against his locker, talking to Minho. 

“Bloody hell Thomas,” was what Newt had said, “you look like crap.”

Thomas let out a gargled sound, it was meant as a greeting, it didn’t come out as such. He buried his face in his locker the moment Newt stepped away. Bloody hell Thomas. Of all the things Newt could have said. He tried so hard not to think about it, but from that moment he was lost. The words are swimming through Thomas’ head, repeated again and again in Newt’s breathy voice.

He was also unprepared to having lunch with Newt, apparently that’s a thing now. Newt seems more talkative too, telling them about his life in England, and joking around with Minho. Thomas makes sure he goes along with it, but he can’t help but let his laughs come out a bit forced and look away when Newt looks at him. Any other day Thomas would be elated, now he feels his cheeks burn with shame because he can’t separate his dreams from reality. Every time he looks at Newt he’s just reminded of his dream. 

The bell rings, school’s over, finally. He’s slow with packing his things though, because once he’s out of here he will have to spend a car ride with Newt to Teresa’s house and then work on a project with Newt. Thomas is not sure he can handle that. 

Minho has his arms crossed and is waiting for him impatiently. “You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong or I will beat it out of you, got it?” He says when Thomas finally slings his backpack over his shoulder. 

“You don’t want to know.” Thomas sighs. He really doesn’t.

“I’m beating it out of you.” Minho decides. He drops his backpack and gets ready to attack, Thomas knows he’s not joking, it will not be the first time they get detention for presumably fighting in the hallways. Though it’s always harmless fun.

“Tomorrow, Teresa’s waiting for me.” Thomas isn’t even trying to get out of it. It’s useless, Minho will not let it go, so tomorrow they’ll wrestle a bit, maybe Teresa will rat him out, but hopefully by the time he will have a decent excuse.

Minho gives him a look, but picks up his bag. “I won’t go easy on you.” He promises. Thomas rolls his eyes, he wasn’t expecting Minho to go easy on him.

He claps Thomas on his shoulder. “See you tomorrow then,” He says, “Don’t think I will forget.” Then he leaves, he has a bus to catch after all. 

“You okay?” Newt asks him, he waited by the door, together they walk to Teresa’s locker.

His voice gets stuck in his throat, so Thomas nods, he can’t look at Newt. Every time he does all he can think of is his dream, it’s a menace, it has never been like that before. Never so clear, never so real. If Thomas didn’t know any better he would think it had really happened. 

The last dream he had like that was a few days before Newt arrived. He couldn’t see Newt’s face then, or hear his voice. Now he knows exactly what it sounds like and his brain has no problem using that to its advantage. 

“Are you still sick?”

Thomas shakes his head, his eyes are strained to the floor. He feels pathetic, he doesn’t understand why he feels like this. This wasn’t a problem before. 

“You look sick.” Newt says. Thomas knows, his cheeks have been red all day and he feels warm, it’s just not for the reason Newt suspects.

“I’m fine.” He tells Newt in a small voice and hopes it will be enough. It isn’t, Thomas can see Newt isn’t buying it. He steps a bit closer, Thomas isn’t sure what he’s going to do, but Newt up close isn’t something he can handle right now. 

Newt squints his eyes, lets them sweep over Thomas’ face, like he’s trying to look inside his brain. For a second Thomas gets scared, what if he could? It’s a silly thought, but he has dreams about a life that never happened, in which he could talk to Teresa in his head, it could be.

 _‘Hi there Newt,’_ He mentally greets the boy, just to test the waters. Not that Newt would react to that of course. _‘Want to see the dream I had about you and start thinking I’m a creep.’_ Thomas adds bitterly.

Teresa is his saving grace. She dumps her bag in his hands and bumps him with her hip, “Ready to go?” She asks as she stuffs the bag with books from her locker. Thomas nods but realizes too late she has her back turned towards him.

“Tom?” She asks when she doesn’t hear him respond. She turns, gives him a once over, takes in his red cheeks and spares a discreet glance at Newt. She smiles. Calm down, she mouths at him. Teresa knows him too well. 

The car ride is better, mostly because Teresa does all the talking and Thomas hides himself away in the backseat. 

“You liking it so far here in America?” Teresa asks him, it’s just small talk, to avoid awkward silences. Thomas should be able to do small talk, but for some reason he’s tongue tied. As if the blood that rushes to his cheeks every time he looks at Newt doesn’t only heat up his face, but also makes his tongue heavier. 

“It’s alright, weather’s a lot better.” Newt answers and then softer, adds: “the people are nice.” Thomas catches the Newt looking at him through the rearview mirror. He averts his eyes and sinks further into his seat. The hurt in Newt’s eyes are only his imagination, he tells himself.

He’s being too obvious though. If Newt doesn’t already think he’s weird, he certainly does now. Ignoring people, avoiding them and not talking to them isn’t a good way to make friends. Newt’s just a person, like everyone else, Thomas reminds himself. He’s had these dreams before, it didn’t change anything then, it won’t now. He needs to get over himself. 

But every time Newt looks at him it all comes rushing back. Tousled blond hair and breathy moans. How beautiful his skin was in the light of the campfire. Thomas is sure that if he hears Newt say bloody hell one more time he will lose it. 

The car pulls up at Teresa’s driveway too soon. Thomas takes a deep breath before getting out of the car, he can do this. He just has to clear his head, no thoughts about that dream. Newt is an actual person, not a fantasy. He’s right here, real and he deserves to be treated that way. 

Teresa leads them up to her room, “I’ll give you the house tour next time,” she jokes with Newt. Thomas walks on autopilot, Teresa’s house is almost as much of a home as his. He dumps his bag in the corner of her room and falls down onto her bed as if it were his own. 

Newt’s a lot more reserved, he holds on to his bag until he sees Teresa do the exact same thing. It’s cute, he looks a bit like a lost puppy, the way his eyes go around the room, unsure what to do with himself. 

Teresa pulls out her desk chair for him and sits down next to Thomas herself. She immediately takes charge, launching into the various subjects Thomas has researched for them. Thomas lets her, content to listen and to pitch his ideas whenever necessary. Thomas knows he’s mostly just talking to Teresa, just glancing at Newt every now and then.

Suddenly Teresa stands up, “You guys want something to drink?” Newt nods. This is odd. Thomas has been coming here long enough that Teresa trusts him to get his own drinks and snacks if he wants them. It has never been any different.

Maybe she’s trying to be a good host to Newt, but the look she gives him as she leaves the room tells him different. She wants him to sort things out with Newt, and knowing Teresa she won’t come back until he has. 

He sighs, buries his face further into his laptop. They spend the next few minutes in silence, just the occasional clicking of keys that interrupts it. It’s obvious Teresa’s not coming back until they resolve this. 

Surprisingly, it’s Newt that ends their silence.

“Thomas?” he starts, he’s still with his back towards Thomas, bend over his book.

“Yeah?” It’s weird, Thomas still can’t get over how weird his name sounds when Newt says it like that. He doesn’t know what else he wants to hear though. Doesn’t know what he expects to hear. 

Newt lets out a deep breath and swivels around so he can look at Thomas. His face is serious and Thomas fears that he finally blew it, there’s only so much a person can take, you can’t force your friendship upon someone and then ignore them.

“I’m sorry.” 

Thomas blinks. He must have heard that wrong.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” Newt repeats. He looks a bit miffed about having to repeat it, it must have taken him a lot to come out and apologize. But why? 

“What for?” Thomas doesn’t understand, if anyone it should be him apologizing. He has ignored Newt all day, he couldn’t separate dreams from reality, he needs to get his shit together.

“For what I said. When we met.” 

It takes a moment for Thomas to recall what Newt had said, he remembers he’d been hurt by Newt’s words and also confused. But he hadn’t given them much thought. Newt didn’t want to be around them but he had been the most angry with Thomas, for some unknown reason. Thomas doesn’t care about that now though, things changed, Newt talks to him now. He had forgotten all about it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Honestly, I already forgot what you said.” Thomas admits. He doesn’t want Newt to feel bad about something he hadn’t even spent time thinking about.

Newt blinks, then he frowns. “But then- why are you shucking avoiding me, you shank? I thought you were still angry about that.”  
Thomas blushes, he had almost forgotten about his dream, he actually talked to Newt without thinking about it, but everything leads back to it.

“I just had a dream that gave me a lot to think about.” He settles with, it’s not the entire truth, also not a lie.

Newt nods, he doesn’t ask about his dream, like Minho would, but he doesn’t draw away from him like Teresa. He seems to realize Thomas doesn’t want to talk about it though. Newt’s eyes glide across the room, over Teresa’s pastel blue walls covered in photos of her with her friends and family. He seems thoughtful. 

“I didn’t want to talk to you because of my dreams.” Newt then admits. “It’s also why I got angry at ya, I guess.”

“Did I do something?” Thomas asks, there’s a lot he doesn’t know yet about his dreams, for some reason it all comes back to him much slower. 

“You still don’t remember?” Thomas shakes his head, if it was something important enough to make Newt act like that he would know what Newt was talking about. The boy smiles sadly at him. “It’s probably better that you don’t.”

Thomas snorts. “Teresa keeps saying that too, but honestly it’s not helping.”

“Something happened.” Newt continues, he’s clearly struggling to find the right words and Thomas feels like a prick for pushing it. “something I thought I understood. But these dreams are so bloody confusing.” He runs a hand through his hair. The way Newt speaks about it, the tone of his voice, it’s harrowing. Thomas understands Newt isn’t going to tell him what happens, not yet at least. Maybe one day. 

“After seeing your shucking ugly face a lot became clearer and I remembered more. I realized it wasn’t your fault. So I’m sorry.”

“I don’t have an ugly face.” Thomas blurts out.

Newt raises an eyebrow. “Are you serious? You fucking arse.” The words are harsh, no Glader slang to soften the words, but Newt’s eyes are sparkling and he’s smiling. Thomas finds himself smiling too and then they’re laughing and Thomas thinks it’s beautiful because Newt’s laughing with him, because of him. It makes him feel warm inside.

“Seriously though,” Thomas finally manages, “you don’t need to feel sorry. Our dreams are crap, they’re horrifying, whatever you dreamt and the way you acted, I don’t blame you. It’s forgiven and forgotten.”

“So we’re good?”

“We’re good.” Thomas agrees. 

“Good that.” Newt mutters and turns back around, he delves back into the history books. His smile doesn’t disappear though and neither does Thomas’. 

Teresa enters the room only a minute later, Thomas is sure she spent most of her time in front of the door listening to their conversation. For once he doesn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. They are talking. What a time to be alive.
> 
> I struggled a lot with this chapter because I couldn't get the pacing right and the dialogue seemed wrong but I didn't want to let you guys wait any longer, so I hope this is all right.
> 
> English is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes let me know!


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